Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

---

The Outer Rim was the frontier of the galaxy, and like all frontiers, it had its share of stories, of mysteries, ripe for speculation. That speculation tended to go in an inevitable direction. Treasure. It was always about treasure.

There had long been rumours flitting around the Outer Rim worlds of rare treasure and ancient historical artefacts, of the remnants of ancient civilisations, lost to history, their founders long turned to dust. Many of those rumours were, of course, based in fact - though those who tried to raid the tombworlds of the Sith Lords tended to live exactly long enough to regret it. 

One of those rumours was more persistent than others, however. It spoke of a place hidden in an asteroid field, far from any civilised space lanes. In this place had lived a being, countless millennia ago, who had collected the most exotic and unusual of things, and hoarded them in this place. A place called 'nowhere'.

It wasn't typical Jedi practice to treasure hunt, the exceptions usually being about taking dangerous artefacts off the market. Those exceptions were also usually handled by the Jedi Shadows.

However, this particular mission was to capture a wanted criminal who happened to be in pursuit of these treasures... and for the first time in millennia, the clues actually went somewhere. So, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and his Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, had decided to follow the same clues, in the hope of getting there first in order to apprehend him.

They succeeded.

But the 'asteroid' was defended, which is where Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan took over. As experienced Jedi, they were pilots well beyond all but the very best in the galaxy, capable of reacting before something even happened, and as such they were easily able to evade the automated systems' attacks and land on the deserted platform. Their quarry, less capable and less fortunate, was blasted to space-dust mere minutes after they had disembarked to prepare for his arrival.

"Well, that didn't exactly go as planned," Obi-Wan muttered under his breath, as he watched fragments of the ship spin awkwardly in the void.

Qui-Gon, meanwhile, was preoccupied with the structure on which they found themselves with evident interest. It was, after all, not every day that one stepped into a literal legend, even for Jedi. 

Cavernous and a mixture of rocky and metallic, it was vast, with any one of the gaping holes capable of swallowing a capital ship. To a layman, it might appear that an asteroid had been carved to resemble a skull, the great holes mimicking eyes... but as he followed his Master's gaze Obi-Wan began to realise that no, this was not carved.

It was  a skull.

A humanoid skull the size of a small moon, belonging to some unfathomably large and impossibly powerful creature... and someone had gone and built a city inside of it.

A deserted... decaying... ancient city.

In a giant skull.

Obi-Wan swallowed. All of a sudden, he felt very, very small.

Qui-Gon, quite typically, mostly just looked curious. Indeed, he smiled at Obi-Wan as if he walked through the scraped out remains of ancient godlike humanoids every other week.

"A credit for your thoughts, Padawan?" he asked, amused.

"I... think that the legends don't quite do this place justice, Master," Obi-Wan equivocated.

"No, they don't, do they?" Qui-Gon said reflectively, sweeping his gaze over a small rusting vessel outfitted with what looked like mining equipment. Wonderful, Obi-Wan thought sourly. Not only were they inside a giant corpse - or part of one - it was one that had evidently been robbed. Extensively. While his Master would probably make some remark along the lines of scavenging as a natural part of any ecosystem, it turned his stomach. 

"Perhaps, as we are already here, it may be of some merit to investigate the, ah, local rumours. What say you, Obi-Wan?"

"Uh... of course, Master," Obi-Wan agreed uneasily, suppressing the temptation to assert that this place couldn't possibly get any weirder or, indeed, more disturbing. He wasn't particularly superstitious, even by Jedi standards, but part of him was fatalistically quite sure that if he said it, the Force would oblige.

The city was large enough that they could easily spend weeks or months exploring it; ruins of a clearly advanced, if slightly ramshackle civilisation all around them, one that had an air of being long worn in, like the mid-levels of Coruscant. However, it was usually a simple matter to find the places of power, even in ancient ruins. This place was no exception.

Behind the left eye socket of the skull was a large and presumably once opulent space that could only belong to the city's leadership - perhaps the legendary 'Collector', or whoever had inspired the myths behind them. But it wasn't treasure that they found. Not in the strictest sense of the word.

"It would seem that the so-called 'Collector' was more interested in life-forms than in material wealth," Qui-Gon said grimly, as they surveyed a positive gallery of transparent containment cells. Some were plainly designed for suspended animation. Others, more sinister, had no such accoutrements, and were barely large enough for a humanoid of Obi-Wan's height to stand up, let alone lie down.

"I do not think that, whoever they were, the galaxy will miss them all that much, Master," Obi-Wan said, frowning.

"No, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. "I can't imagine that it will. Come - it is possible that some of the stasis chambers have some power left."

Ancient as the structure was, several of the preservation devices seemed to have failed over time, leaving rotting corpses confined within. Most of the survivors were flora rather than fauna, preserved in a stasis field; plants of every shape and shade, kinds that Obi-Wan had never seen before.

Qui-Gon ran a scanner over the writing on the first they came across. The machine took an uncharacteristically long time to provide a translation, and helpfully informed them that the translation came via a distant relationship to Notron Cant. Obi-Wan fancied himself a bit of a linguist and more than a bit of a historian. The fact that this language, whatever it was, was somehow related to a language last spoken - at the very latest - around thirty thousand years ago was intellectually fascinating. Also, perhaps, a little disturbing.

"Laganaphyllis Simnovorii; last of its kind," Qui-Gon read aloud from the translator. Like all the survivors here, the strangely-patterned plant was seemingly frozen in place, but Obi-Wan got a very bad feeling about it when it was named, all the same. "Carnivorous; requires feeding at least twice per standard cycle to maintain docility."

The first surviving fauna they found was a furred quadruped, sandy gold in colour with floppy ears and a pointed muzzle. In spite of its less-than-sentient appearance, it was dressed in a very primitive space suit, and its facial expression was so lovably morose that Obi-Wan, not usually very impressed by pathetic life-forms and certainly not half so fond of them as his Master, found himself wanting to let it out just because it looked so very sad in there.

"Canis Familiaris Sapiens; first and last of its kind," Qui-Gon read, squatting down to take a look at it. "You must be very lonely, my friend."

The animal gave Qui-Gon a very sad, very knowing look, and unmistakably nodded. Obi-Wan blinked, and even Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows, before pressing a hand against the transparent case. A few moments of concentration and a pulse in the Force, and then the cell opened, releasing the creature, which let out a joyful bark and all but leapt into Qui-Gon's arms, drawing a surprised chuckle. After a few long moments of petting the creature, he stood. 

Obi-Wan sighed, then shook his head. "This place holds an air of cold malevolence and suffering."

"It seems that this mythical 'Collector' prized unique life forms," Qui-Gon said in a tone of agreement. "And was less than concerned for their welfare." He regarded their newest companion. "We will be leaving this place," he said, addressing the creature as if it could understand them (and Obi-Wan was increasingly inclined to believe that it could). "You are more than welcome to come with us. First, however, we need to check if there are others, like you. You may wait for us here, or join us in our search. The choice is yours."

The choice, it seemed, was not a difficult one, and for that Obi-Wan could not blame the creature. Who knew when it had last encountered anyone at all? Let alone anyone who had shown it even the slightest kindness?

They moved on, the animal following closely, through various forms of animal life in various states of decay. Some looked like they might have been brought back by a fast medic. Others looked as if they were one breath of wind from turning to dust. Some of the cages showed signs of desperate scratch marks, those within trying their very best to escape as the stasis pods began to fail. A handful had even broken out, only to succumb close to their pods, having spent their last efforts on freedom. On and on they went, through this cavalcade of horrors, eventually finding humanoid life.

It only got worse from there.

More than once, Obi-Wan was tempted to ask if they could leave this cold tomb, a monument to wealth and cruelty, taking the animal with them and letting the dead rest. However, Qui-Gon was right - there was always a chance that there was someone else. And if there was another being here, then they deserved far better than to rot away in this mausoleum.

That being said, he thought, as he grimaced at the shrivelled looking corpse of a blue skinned humanoid, illuminated by dimming lights, the chances of there being another seemed increasingly small.

'Small', however, was not 'none'.

There was only one surviving pod in the humanoid section, which hadn't failed over the aeons. It looked ancient in a way the others around it did not, a dark carbon-steel chamber, with a small window at the top, frosted over. Cryogenics. Primitive, but potentially effective. Qui-Gon examined the controls of the pad beside it, then carefully pressed a couple of the buttons, tilting it into an upright position, allowing Obi-Wan to carefully brush away at the exterior frosting. 

In front of him, eyes closed as if asleep, was a masked man with dark hair, what skin was visible being pale from more than just cold - apparently human, at a guess, or a close relative.

Behind him, Qui-Gon read the translation of the plaque: "Last surviving Terran 'super soldier'."

---

Obi-Wan watched as the second of the two pods containing a seemingly-sentient (because that animal seemed far too intelligent to be anything else) survivor of this 'Collector' slowly defrosted in their cargo hold. Based on previous encounters with cryogenics, Qui-Gon had judged it too dangerous to simply open straight away. Now that they were both out in the open, and away from that house of horrors, he had the leisure to study the two beings more closely.

The 'Terran Super Soldier' was tall, muscular, and looked to be in his early 30s, if he did in fact turn out to be human. Despite his circumstances, he looked surprisingly healthy, for all that he turned out to have an artificial limb, with cybernetic support built into much of his side; his left arm built of sleek black and gold metal that put Obi-Wan in mind of the old stories of the Eternal Empire. In fact, if he remembered his astrography correctly, they weren't all that far from the Empire's ancient dominion. But he was quite sure that those stories had never included the word 'Terran'. In fact, that word was entirely unfamiliar to Obi-Wan, who was an avid student of galactic history.

The translator faltered over the word, tried to suggest it meant 'of the dirt' or 'of the ground', but it also admitted to being an imperfect translation.

The man had also been wearing a mask and goggles, covering most of his face, which now sat on a table beside the open stasis pod. Perhaps they were the equipment of a 'super soldier'. Obi-Wan was hoping that that simply meant an elite warrior, in the sense of a superior soldier, but given the Collection's nature, he rather suspected it was more than that.

The 'Canis Familiaris Sapiens' was completely alien to Obi-Wan. He wasn't all that well-versed in biology or its etymology, but he did know 'sapiens' meant sentient... and 'familiaris' was usually only applied to pets. Usually mutually exclusive terms. It vaguely reminded him of other medium-sized furred creatures, sitting up in an attentive pose, its shoulder reaching about thigh-height to him, with golden fur, a long muzzle, and very expressive ears ... but it was dissimilar enough, in a few key ways, to any other animal he had ever heard of that he imagined it very likely originated on an entirely unknown planet.

The Terran stirred finally, recovering his equilibrium and senses startlingly fast after he initially regained consciousness. He took in his surroundings with sharp eyes and a calculating look that sent a chill up Obi-Wan's spine, putting him on his guard. It was the kind of look he recognised from his time on Mandalore, and far more than the muscles and the arm, or the title of 'super soldier', it persuaded him that this man was dangerous.

"Where am I?" he demanded. While the man clearly spoke a language other than Basic, his lips moving slightly out of synch with the words, Galactic Basic with a Corellian accent was what Obi-Wan heard.

Someone, at some point, must have given the man a translator implant... and an advanced, adaptive one, at that, given the clear evidence that he was from a time before the Basic language had even existed. An incredibly rare piece of technology; even when its wearer was unconscious, the chip must have been listening to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's conversations, to be able to process his words into their language already. Most people just had to learn the hard way, or use a protocol droid.

Obi-Wan certainly wasn't complaining, because he couldn't begin to imagine the language barrier, otherwise.

"You're on a Jedi ship," Qui-Gon said, his tone gentle and reassuring. "We found you in a stasis chamber, in an ancient and abandoned exo-habitat. We're not sure how long you were there, but I'm going to guess 'very'."

The man snorted, disgusted and derisive, yet there was also a hint of dark and sardonic amusement there, as well. "What, I don't even get told the year this time?" He was particularly hard to read in the Force, but Obi-Wan thought he sensed some fear, and miserable resignation, behind the attempt at flippancy. And he found himself uncomfortably wondering at the choice of words; 'this time'. Connecting it with the sense of resignation, that did not bode well.

"Well, by the standard galactic calendar, the year is 999 ARR," he answered, totally expecting the blank look he received for it.

"ARR?" the man asked dubiously.

"After the Ruusan Reformation, which marked the end of the last great galactic war," Qui-Gon answered, shooting Obi-Wan a reproving look for having further confused their guest.

"Galactic..." the man muttered under his breath, shaking his head slowly. "The last galaxy-scale war I know of was Thanos."

The two Jedi exchanged a look of mutual confusion. Finally, Qui-Gon spoke, slowly and with a pensive, concerned frown. "We... have never heard of Thanos."

The man stared at him for several long seconds, and clenched his jaw. "Okay, what was before Ruusan?"

"The Sacking of Coruscant," Obi-Wan answered promptly. "A further two thousand, six hundred and fifty-three years earlier."

The jaw clenched tighter. "And before that?"

"The Jedi Civil War, three centuries earlier," Obi-Wan answered, straining his memory for history lessons that were vague at best. "Before that, the Mandalorian Wars, and then-"

"You can stop." The man shook his head, looking utterly hopeless. "I guess it's been a while," he said with a sigh. A phenomenal understatement, by the looks of things.

"Legends of the Collector have been found on some of our earliest records, as far back as twenty-five thousand years ago," Qui-Gon added quietly.

The man tilted his head to one side, curiosity and confusion, but nothing negative hidden there that Obi-Wan could see. "Who's the Collector?"

"We found you in what we believe to have been the Collector's treasure vault," Qui-Gon explained, clearly surprised that the man hadn't known who had held him prisoner. "Most of the other, uh, 'exhibits' had long since perished, as their stasis pods failed."

The man glanced at the mask and goggles on the table, and seemed to flinch, before picking them up and all but glowering at them. Yet, he didn't throw them aside. From there, he went on to examine his outfit with evident distaste. Obi-Wan saw nothing wrong with said outfit; it was black, mostly leather, suited most to mercenaries, but perfectly functional. Still, the man seemed displeased, somehow... even as he put the mask and goggles away into pockets of the tactical vest he wore that seemed designed to hold them perfectly.

"The Collector's a jerk!" a female voice declared, in a lilting and unfamiliar accent. All three men turned to stare in shock as the four-legged creature trotted towards them, looking up at them all pointedly. Obi-Wan only narrowly avoided outright gaping. He had expected the creature to be sentient, based on its - or, apparently, her - behaviour, but speaking? It took him a moment to realise that all three of them could understand her. "Everyone thought Thanos killed him, but he came back, claiming to be unkillable or something. Most of us on Knowhere managed to escape when he came back... but not all."

She - and somehow Obi-Wan was now certain the creature was female - looked around hopefully, even going so far as to turn around completely on the spot rather than just turn her head. Then she focused her attention on Qui-Gon as the one she clearly felt was in charge - her emotions projected quite loudly.

"Were there any other survivors?" she asked. Her voice was strange. The audible sound seemed to come from the collar of her suit, but Obi-Wan could also sense her exerting her will to speak, so clearly that he could almost hear the words in his mind as well... as if that was how she operated the device. Force and technology combined.

Well. That would explain the mutual understanding.

"You two seem to be the only ones, other than some plantlife that was labelled as hazardous," Qui-Gon admitted.

She cocked her head to the side in a quizzical gesture. "Was there any humanoid  plantlife?"

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged another confused look, then both shook their heads. "I didn't see any," Qui-Gon admitted.

"Oh, phew, Groot got away, that is good," the quadruped answered, letting out a huff of breath and bobbing her head. "He is also the last of his kind, and the Collector really  wanted him."

"Over twenty-five thousand years," the Terran told her with a scowl. "Do Groots live that long?"

"Some can," she answered cheerfully. "He was young, so maybe? Maybe there's a whole planet of his descendants by now."

"I'm not asking how," the Terran muttered, shaking his head.

"It seems somewhat impolite that we haven't yet introduced ourselves," Obi-Wan put in, because if he left it to Qui-Gon they would never get around to it. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Padawan." He gestured to Qui-Gon. "My Master, Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Master?" the Terran asked dubiously. As he turned his focus upon Qui-Gon, his eyes narrowed and his body-language clearly followed the manner of one who had only ever heard the word in a negative context. Whether slavery or tyranny, Obi-Wan couldn't tell.

"It is a title referring to mastery of skill, and I am Obi-Wan's teacher," Qui-Gon clarified, clearly following the same line of thought as Obi-Wan had. "There are older variations of the title, from other languages, which more clearly convey the distinction... but they have fallen out of common practice."

The Terran shifted his left shoulder in a way that looked uncomfortable given it was half machine. He clearly still wasn't sure.

"I'm Cosmo," the golden-furred being shared eagerly enough. "My species is commonly called 'Dog' where we're from." She nodded her head to the Terran to include him.

"James Barnes," the Terran supplied. "Yeah, we're from the same planet, but I've never met her before." His expression, somewhat dubious, suggested that he was quite clearly not expecting her to talk. Perhaps that was where the 'sapiens' part came in.

Cosmo nodded, waving her tail from side to side in a manner that seemed to convey positive emotion. It was usually incredibly difficult to correctly interpret non-humanoid body-language, and technically this was a first contact, which ought to make it worse, but her presence in the Force was overwhelmingly friendly and eager.

She made an audible huffing noise, just short of real vocalisation - as opposed to her Force-and-technologically-enabled speech - then the sound of laughter echoed from said device. "Oh, I have heard of you, солдат."

That last word defied translation; a language their technology didn't know. And the look  Barnes gave her for it was positively withering. She actually leaned back away from him, fur raising around the collar, emotions riddled with fear and defiance in near equal measure.

It was eerie, just how quiet Barnes' presence appeared in the Force, as if he was able somehow to mute himself, while Cosmo positively projected. It didn't take true Force sensitivity to achieve either outcome; it was quite possible that the outgoing sense of... bounciness from Cosmo was simply her nature. The quiet, though... that was far more commonly learned behaviour.

Qui-Gon had barely opened his mouth to speak, when the ship's comm alert went off. Qui-Gon made a half-bow-half-nod to their guests. "Excuse me, I must answer that," and departed for the cockpit.

"So, uh," Obi-Wan prevaricated. "Over twenty-five thousand years, I've never heard of this galactic threat you both speak of; Thanos... and I must say, I have an interest in history, so if it was commonly known in our time, I would be at least passingly familiar with it. I've not even heard of a species called Terran-"

"What's a Terran?" Cosmo asked, with a positively adorable confused head-tilt.

"It's what all the aliens called humans," Barnes informed her curtly.

"Ah, I see." Obi-Wan nodded slowly.

"Wait, wasn't Quill human?" Cosmo asked, confused. "No one ever called him Terran."

"From what I've heard, there were many other, far less flattering words for him that were just as accurate," Barnes told her, an element of gallows humour in his voice.

Cosmo cocked her head to the side as she thought about that. "That checked out," she admitted after a moment.

"Well, as I was trying to explain," Obi-Wan continued. "I would love to help you find your homeworld, but it seems a touch unlikely... and perhaps our efforts might be best placed trying to acclimatise you to the present day, instead?"

Barnes frowned, those muted, hard to read negative emotions reaching the fore again. Pain and sadness - loss. Yet, he was also clearly pushing them to the side to allow him to think rationally. Somewhat worryingly, he seemed quite accustomed to it. 

"I remember reading that our sun was pretty young. Still five billion years - or something like that - left, so I'm sure it's out there somewhere... but yeah, I'll take what I can get, if you're offering any help at all, to be honest." 

He glanced around the ship curiously, a faint smile flickering across his face, in spite of the sadness the revelation of the passage of time was causing him. There was some spark of appreciation for beauty there... even in what Obi-Wan found mundane. "Y'know, this is my first spaceship ride... that I was awake for, at least. Must have got to Knowhere somehow."

"Late to the party, солдат!" Cosmo laughed.

"I've heard of you, too, you know," Barnes told her curtly. "Why don't you go chase Apollo Thirteen up a tree?"

She retorted with a sharp bark that was telling of her animal origins and showed some very predatory teeth. "Rude, солдат!"

"Stop calling me that!" he snapped right back. "Twenty-five millennia , and that damned curse is still following me!"

Obi-Wan honestly wasn't quite sure which one of them the low growl came from - it might have been both - but then Cosmo backed down first, lowering her shoulders in a submissive gesture. "Sorry, sorry. I did not realise you disliked the title so much."

"And I was only rude in retaliation," Barnes answered, clearly the best peace offering she was getting from him.

Obi-Wan could just barely sense the self-recrimination for his outburst in Barnes' emotions. He was still so deeply repressed in the Force that Obi-Wan had needed to actively listen to get a read on him at all; some Jedi might miss this man's very presence entirely, if they weren't paying attention. Yes, that was definitely training. Even the best of the Mandalorians gave away more than this man did.

But that unidentified word had clearly upset him. Obi-Wan wondered what it meant, and what the history was there.

The uneasy silence of the truce they had reached only lasted a moment, as Qui-Gon returned. "We've been ordered to Naboo, to help with trade negotiations," he informed Obi-Wan curtly. "I mentioned our two passengers, and the Council insisted this was urgent. Orders directly from the Chancellor himself. They can stay with the ship while we deal with the bureaucrats."

"Fine by me, I hate politics," Barnes said with a shrug.

"Boring!" Cosmo agreed with a soft yip.

---

Bucky watched the two Jedi leave the ship. He was trying very hard not to think about the time difference. Twenty-five thousand  years! That was an unreal amount of time. Once you get to 'everyone you loved is dead', every year after that was just a number, really. Insult added to the injury... but twenty-five thousand years. Everyone he loved was forgotten to history . At best, they'd probably be dug up and on display like cavemen. Hell, if it wasn't for those Jedi, he'd have thought that after all that time there was every chance that humans were extinct .

No one remembered Thanos, or what he did. Nevermind Earth... or Steve. Or anyone else he'd ever known. Except the Soviet space-dog, he supposed. She wouldn't have been his first choice. She wouldn't even have been his first Russian-secret-project choice; that would have been Romanoff. Yet, strange as it was, he was deeply, desperately,  intensely relieved to have anyone who knew anything about Earth here with him now.

The really rotten thing about it was that he had already lost most of those he cared about twice over, before finding himself here. This was just a new level of painfully familiar territory... but it still hurt.

He couldn't recall this 'Collector'; the last thing he remembered was being accosted by a group of Kree mercenaries, who had overpowered him... then waking up here, with those two men who positively radiated benevolence in a way he had only ever known Steve to do. And even then, Steve had never quite managed that level of apparent zen.

He couldn't afford to wholly trust them, but he found distrust surprisingly hard. Which, admittedly, was a little suspicious in itself, but even so.

Cosmo, on the other hand... well, he'd heard of her, but that was only the general rumour of a Soviet space experiment that had gone wrong, and Rocket talking about her later, so he'd been able to put the pieces together to form a rough sketch of a story. She'd been sent up into space in the 1960s, found by some aliens, somewhere along the line she acquired enhanced intelligence, longevity, and telekinesis... and she eventually wound up on Knowhere.

Apparently, he had ended up on Knowhere, too.

As he sat, contemplating his options, two other humans appeared from the cockpit. "Ah, you're our passengers, eh?" the woman asked, smiling warmly enough. "I'm Captain Maoi Madakor, and this is my co-pilot; Antidar Williams."

"James Barnes," Bucky introduced himself.

"Cosmo."

Captain Madakor smiled, warm but wary. "Nice to meet you. This whole thing shouldn't take too long; Jedi are real good with this sort of thing."

"What, exactly, is going on, anyway?" Bucky asked.

It was Williams who answered him. "The Trade Federation set up a blockade around Naboo, claiming they're owed some kind of tax that the Nubians insist they've never heard of before. The Trade Federation throw their weight around sometimes, 'specially on the Rim, but I've never heard of them doing anything like this. They're even blocking food imports . Naboo's got a few farms, sure, but not enough for its entire population; they started out as a mining colony a few thousand years ago, and they've always had outside support through trade. Their main exports are refined plasma and luxury goods. The citizens are starting to starve. There's no way this will be allowed to continue, the Jedi just need to talk sense into the Federation."

Bucky nodded slowly. He understood all of that, and the Trade Federation firmly planted themselves on the 'bad guys' list in his mind. It was the kind of shit HYDRA used to love to encourage: start a skirmish over something trivial and selfish on one side, to hurt innocents and cause chaos. All in the name of inciting enough fear to make people want their twisted notion of order. 

On the other hand, people had the tendency to be petty and selfish all on their own, too. Just because it fit the familiar pattern didn't make it some evil plot for destruction... just as likely some awful corporate plot for money. He'd seen plenty of that  during the Cold War.

Bucky wandered down the landing ramp, looking around at the large number of robots moving around, operating machinery. He had never seen Ultron in person, but he'd heard all about it from Steve, and while they didn't exude anything like the menace of the Ultron that Steve had described, that he'd seen on the news, the way these robots moved sent a shiver up his spine.

"We're supposed to stay on the ship," Captain Madakor called after him. She and Williams lingered on the top of the ramp, but Cosmo was already at his heel.

"If there's nothing wrong, there'll be no harm," Bucky muttered under his breath.

Cosmo looked up at him, and when she spoke it was - somewhat eerily - only in his mind.

'You think something is wrong?'

"It feels... too familiar. Especially for over twenty-five millennia later," he said softly.

Suddenly, a turret overhead turned on their ship, and fired. The robots around them turned to fire on them, as well. Bucky shielded his face with his left arm, just in time to catch a bolt from the laser-looking weapons, and a moment later Cosmo ducked low and an energy shield went up around them. Rocket hadn't mentioned energy shields when he had talked about Cosmo's powers, but Bucky sure wasn't complaining.

A glance behind told him that the ship was a smoking ruin, and neither of the crew were at all likely to have survived. Still, don't count anyone out until you see the corpse; he had learned that lesson well. Been an object in said lesson, and all.

Cosmo growled and barked loudly, and the energy shield exploded outwards, blasting the robots back and away.

The turret overhead remained undamaged, and Bucky darted towards the nearest pile of crates, Cosmo keeping close and low. He pulled a large metal pipe from the pile. It was heavy, and should serve the purpose. "Cover me."

A second energy shield wrapped around him, this one close to his body instead of the previous dome-shaped one. He stepped out to get a sightline, and the turret got in two hits as he threw the pipe, lefthanded, directly at it like a javelin. The energy from the first laser blast dissipated on Cosmo's shield, but the second one broke through... luckily, not before the shield took most of the kick out of it, and he only ended up with a minor burn on his right shoulder.

And his improvised pipe-javelin had struck true, completely destroying the turret.

The robots were regrouping, though.

"I can't do much more," Cosmo admitted. He nodded. Rocket had never mentioned limits to her powers, either, but he wasn't surprised. Not only were they both just out of stasis, but she had been moving a fair bit of energy around.

"Check on the ship, see if the others survived." He turned to face the advancing horde of robots. They were so much slower and clunkier than he would have expected, after what he'd heard about Ultron. So much for progress. He rotated his metal arm, testing his range of motion, nodding slightly when it responded to his satisfaction. "I've got this."

---

Chapter Text

---

Qui-Gon had led Obi-Wan down to the ship's landing bays, and they were watching as the droid armies prepared for invasion. They had both felt the echo of death in the Force, and held out little hope for their ship and its inhabitants. They had to save themselves.

"You were right about one thing, Master. The negotiations were short," Obi-Wan quipped, trying to deflect from the pain of their situation.

Just then, there was an echo in the Force. At first, he didn't recognise it, then an instant later, he understood - it was Cosmo, speaking through the Force. 'The pilots are dead, how are we going to get out of here?'

Clearly, Qui-Gon thought, her talents extended far beyond operating that telepathic vocoder.  He focused carefully, trying to relay the plan he had just explained to Obi-Wan, telepathically, for her. Few Jedi had the capacity for direct telepathic communication, beyond sometimes between Master and Padawan. However, practice, ingenuity, and empathy made Qui-Gon's talents in this department greater than most, and he managed to convey images and a sense of meaning.  Enough, certainly, that she seemed to get the message.

After that, it was just a matter of waiting. 

---

When he reached the ground, Obi-Wan found Cosmo first. Or, more accurately, she found him. With her quadrupedal body-shape and medium stature, she had a great deal more speed and agility than the average humanoid, easily evading the native wildlife as it fled from the droids. She raced across the underbrush towards him, with every evidence of excitement. While her mouth was open, it seemed more in order to breathe rather than the snarl one might easily mistake it for. This was the sort of distinction that Obi-Wan had learned to make early, given Qui-Gon's fondness for all kinds of life-forms. Her tongue even lolled out of her mouth in a manner that somehow managed to come across as positively playful.

"You made it," he said, oddly happy to see her in spite of their brief acquaintance. The relief that there had been survivors from their ship was part of it, less guilt at having dragged innocents into a situation that had grown wildly out of hand. That being said, there was something else, too. He was starting to get the feeling that the two beings they had found on that not-an-asteroid were somehow important. While Qui-Gon always told him to be mindful of the present moment, there was something about the both of them, and he wondered what it was.

"Yes, I got the message; stowaway and get down to the planet," she said. Her voice sounded almost even, but she was bouncing from side to side, waving her tail in that apparently cheerful way. Her heavy panting spoke of exertion, but her Force presence gave the impression that she had nevertheless enjoyed the exercise for its own sake. Given that it was the first time that she had been free in who knew how long, it would make sense. That, he thought wryly, or she enjoyed danger a little too  much.

She got Qui-Gon's message, and she had called out through the Force, as well. He wasn't sure if this was just a normal form of communication for her (there were a number of naturally telepathic species, after all), or if it was a sign of true Force-sensitivity. He set this aside. They could check later.

As if emphasising the need to focus on the present, a pair of battle droids on repulsor-craft swooped into view, bearing down on the pair of them.

Obi-Wan reached for his lightsaber, but before he could draw it, blaster bolts struck down the droids... one shot in the centre of each of their chests. Perfectly dead-centre, at that.

He turned to see Barnes, holding a severed droideka arm  in his left hand. Now that he was done using it as a makeshift blaster-rifle, he lifted it up to rest on his shoulder. His expression was grim but also, somehow, a touch smug. When he saw Obi-Wan's undignified gawping, the expression became only more so. "Your Master's this way," he nodded to the side, and began walking that way.

Obi-Wan stared at him for an instant, then hurriedly followed. "How did you get that?" he asked, trying to temper his bursting curiosity.

"The robot rolled right up to me, and I chose to assume that was an offer," Barnes answered flippantly.

Robot? A very old word, more commonly used for droids, when it was ever used at all... but holding an alternate meaning connected to slavery. The literal translation came across as 'forced labour'.

Perhaps, given the era he must be from, it was the only word he knew for droids?

Obi-Wan examined him carefully. There was a rather nasty burn on his right shoulder (one that did not seem to be slowing him down in the slightest - and it looked older than it should, too, given how short their separation had been), and a few grazes on the edges of his clothing, where he had clearly very narrowly dodged yet more blaster bolts. As for his left arm - the artificial one - while the black metal hid it well, it sported many scorch marks, though they all looked superficial. Obi-Wan wondered what it was made of to be so resilient. The only metals he knew of that could block blasters that effectively, especially high-powered ones like the droidekas used, were durasteel (which was far too heavy) and beskar.

And to rip off a droideka's arm! He could see that it was severed at the weakest joints, but even then, those droids were heavily reinforced. A lightsaber could cut it easily enough, but without one... the raw strength required would be quite significant. It was certainly beyond any ordinary, non-Jedi human.

Perhaps this was connected to the 'Super Soldier' description in the Collector's mausoleum.

"The ability to speak does not make you intelligent," Qui-Gon's voice could be heard from the direction they were headed. "Now, get out of here."

"No, no! Mesa stay!" shouted an unfamiliar voice. Obi-Wan hurried over to see what was going on. "Mesa called Jar Jar Binks! Mesa your humble servant!"

"That won't be necessary," Qui-Gon demurred. Obi-Wan spotted him, striding purposefully away from the native being, who was just as determinedly following him.

"Oh, but it is! Tis demanded by de gods it is!"

"Which ones?" Barnes asked, as they caught up with the pair.

"De gods of de waters! We Gungans been worshipping them forever! Mesa be owing youse a Life Debt!" Binks said, pointing a long finger at Qui-Gon when he said the last part.

Barnes shook his head, looking exasperated. Obi-Wan's feelings mirrored the other man's expression. That being said, he did wonder why Barnes chose to ask about the Gungan's gods. His tone had sounded almost challenging, as if perhaps he believed there was a good chance these gods were a scam of some kind. The Jedi had dealt with false gods in the past, so it wasn't an unreasonable suggestion. Still, water gods seemed reasonable enough for a native water-dwelling species to believe in, and Barnes didn't press the matter.

Even Qui-Gon's expression was becoming increasingly put upon. After a moment, Qui-Gon also shook his head. "I refuse," he declared. "Now we need to get out of here before any of those droids catch up to us."

"Is not being like that!" Binks protested. "Yousa not get to refuse. My must be repaying youse for saving my life!"

"Maybe shout a little louder?" Barnes suggested sarcastically. "That way the droids will be drawn to you, and we can make a clean escape." He heard Qui-Gon say 'droids' just once, and picked up on the correct terminology. Very quick on the uptake, Obi-Wan noted.

Binks promptly shut up, but did not stop following them.

Cosmo, Obi-Wan noticed, was keeping quiet, and trotting along right next to Barnes as they walked, going so far as to almost walk in perfect step with him, two steps for her to match one for him.

They only managed about two minutes' walk in silence, before Binks spoke up again.

Later, Obi-Wan would realise what a gift those two minutes had been. 

---

Bucky listened to the two Jedi persuade the alien (except, wouldn't they technically be the aliens here?) to take them to some hidden city. It was vaguely amusing, but he was honestly confident that he could put a big enough hole in the advancing robot (droid?) army that they had no reason to be afraid. The rolling ones were fast and potentially dangerous in the open, but the stick-like ones with insectoid heads? Slow, dumb, and fragile. Easy prey. Still, the Jedi were the ones who knew what they were doing here, and until he got his footing in this new era - or they proved to be untrustworthy - he would let them lead. In the meantime, he decided to enjoy the view (and study the terrain. Just in case).

This planet was so Earth-like. Beautiful and lush wild wetlands. Clean breathable air, blue sky. It was almost hard to believe it wasn't just some corner of Earth he'd never been to before. Of course, they'd been on a spaceship, and he'd gotten a good look at the shape of the continents on his way down here. Very much not Earth, just very much like some wilder parts of it.

He idly picked up a stick off the ground, and before he knew what was happening Cosmo was positively bouncing around him. "Throw the stick! Throw the stick! Throw the stick! Throw the stick! Throw the stick! Throw the stick!" she chanted in a low whisper that sounded like she desperately wanted to yell but knew better given their circumstances.

And yet, given the circumstances, she still wanted him to throw the stick.

With little better to do, while the others argued, he did as she demanded... aiming in the direction they had been walking towards, to reduce the risk of the droids finding her. She raced off after it, and returned eagerly, tail wagging. So very like a normal dog, except for the ability to speak. And perform advanced calculus in her head, from what Rocket had told him.

He accepted the returned stick, and she began the 'throw the stick' dance again. "You ever do this before, or is it just instinct?" he asked her.

"It is both!" she declared, still quiet but feeling like she wanted to shout. "In Russia, I was a stray before I was sent into space. Children often played fetch with me. On Knowhere, Groot would make sticks to throw for me."

"How's that work?" he asked, frowning at the thought of a sentient tree trying to cut pieces of itself off.

"If he knows it will be severed, Groot can remove all neural activity from the limb, so he doesn't hurt, or forget anything," she explained, stopping her bouncing to sit and look at him more thoughtfully. "And he can grow spare limbs very fast, for climbing or fighting. Sticks to throw are easy, compared to some of the things he can do. Cuttings are how Groots reproduce, also; copy memories into the piece to be planted. This is why the Groot I knew forgot so much from before Ronan; he could not prepare which piece to keep memory in, if he did not know what would survive the explosion. Rocket saved a piece and planted it. New Groot is both old Groot and  old Groot's son, in that way."

Bucky blinked at that  little lesson in Xenobiology, and he stared a little dubiously at the (hopefully) ordinary tree branch in his hand. Then, because he couldn't think of a proper response, he threw it again, with the expected result. What the hell. At least one of them was enjoying this whole situation.

When Jar Jar finally began to lead them, Bucky kept on throwing the stick ahead of their group, and Cosmo eagerly continued the game with him. He saw the sideways looks the two Jedi gave the pair of them for it, but he didn't feel the need to justify it, and they didn't ask.

Jar Jar was just oblivious.

It had already been late afternoon when they had landed, and it was just starting to get dark when they reached the lake.

Jar Jar said they were heading into the lake.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan seemed not to have any problem with this, and Obi-Wan casually handed a small device to Bucky, like he ought to know what it was. "Uh, we can't breathe underwater," he informed them.

"That's what this is for," Obi-Wan explained, then demonstrated by putting another of the same device in his own mouth.

Cosmo whined, doing a little indecisive-dog danced at the shoreline. She was still holding the stick. Bucky sighed. "You can either drop the stick or use your helmet, but it looks like we're going underwater either way."

Another whine, and with obvious intense reluctance, she dropped the stick and activated the helmet of her suit. It clicked into place with a hiss, and she set off into the water, following Jar Jar.

Bucky improvised a way to strap his stolen weapon to his back, put what he sure hoped was a breathing device into his mouth, carefully, as he had been shown... and followed the others into the water.

---

Obi-Wan observed the eerily quiet way Barnes had about him; in the forest, he had moved in near silence despite clearly not knowing the terrain, with an unconscious grace that ordinary humans very rarely possessed. In the Gungan city, on reflection, he had appeared practically out of nowhere and in total silence. After that, he remained in the background, fading into the shadows while in plain sight, managing to pass unnoticed through the entire exchange with the Gungan authorities. The only sign anyone even acknowledged his existence was the fact that the ship Qui-Gon acquired for them was a four-seater. Cosmo stayed at Barnes' side the entire time too, tail down in a way that her Force-projection told him was nervousness around the unfamiliar.

The trip through the core was... eventful ; far too much native wildlife for Obi-Wan's taste, but he was probably their most talented pilot (no one else had offered, and he wasn't going to let Qui-Gon steer this ship, thank you very much). Cosmo sat by Barnes, her head on his lap, behind Obi-Wan and next to Qui-Gon, and somehow he still managed to find room for that severed droideka arm, as well.

They reached the other side intact, and that was really what mattered the most.

He did at one point hear Cosmo's wondering tone whisper, "A hollow planet with waterways through the core. That's a new one."

"How many planets have you been to?" Barnes asked in response.

"Uh... does Knowhere count?"

"No, and neither does Earth." Just like 'Terran', that word tried to translate to dirt or ground, but came across more as a proper name. Perhaps their homeworld?

"Three, then. It is still a new concept; I have heard of many more types of planets than I have visited."

They made it to the surface with only one panic attack from Binks, surfacing in the grand canal in the capital city of Naboo. After that, Qui-Gon led them through the streets, until they found the Queen and her entourage.

Barnes held back again during the ambush, watching them take out the droids with a calculating eye, rather than joining in. Though there had been moments where he had taken aim, and been prepared to intervene had it been needed, he had restrained himself when it was proved unnecessary.

"Laser swords," Cosmo whispered in an impressed tone that caused Obi-Wan to smile at her, in the aftermath. But Qui-Gon was already moving on, prompting the Queen's guards to pick up the droids' weapons, and leading them onwards. Barnes, for his part, just gave the lightsabers an assessing look, before nodding slightly to himself, as if this was one question answered.

Barnes did  participate in the firefight to free the pilots and ship, and his pin-point accuracy was impressive, to say the least. He put himself between the civilians and the droids, right alongside Qui-Gon, and took out around a good third of the droids on his own. Obi-Wan found himself thinking; if this had been Mandalore, Barnes would have been inundated with offers to spar. More than a few of those offers would have been horizontal. Mandalorians being Mandalorians, more than a few of those would have included a bit of both.

When Obi-Wan made it to the cockpit, Barnes was already there, watching the pilot just as intently as he had watched that first lightsaber battle, as if he were attempting to take in every nuance and detail on the first try. "Does this ship have any weapons?" Barnes asked.

"No, we're a peaceful people," the pilot answered him curtly. "And this is a luxury transport shuttle, not a warship." Barnes pulled a face that looked disapproving, and maybe a little condescending, as he leaned back and watched the rest of the situation unfold.

Their shields were knocked out, and it was a rather closer call than Obi-Wan would have liked. Frankly, it was only thanks to a particularly resilient astromech droid that they managed to get away at all.

"There's not enough power to get us to Coruscant," the pilot explained, giving Barnes a sidelong wary look, before focusing entirely on the two Jedi and the work he was doing on the ship itself. "The hyperdrive is leaking."

"We'll have to land somewhere to refuel and repair the ship," Qui-Gon declared.

"Here, Master," Obi-Wan offered, already looking at their options on the map. "Tatooine. It's small, out of the way, poor. The Trade Federation have no presence there."

"How can you be sure?" the Queen's security officer asked.

"It's controlled by the Hutts," Qui-Gon answered.

"You can't take her Royal Highness there, the Hutts are gangsters!" the security officer protested. "If they discover her-"

"It'd be no different than if we landed on a system controlled by the Federation," Qui-Gon cut him off. "Except that the Hutts aren't looking for her, which gives us the advantage."

"So those are our only two options?" Barnes asked dubiously. "Corporate criminals hiding behind politics, or the more obvious kind that at least want to shoot us in the face?"

"Well," Obi-Wan said, on edge. "Not us specifically."

"Just everyone in general, right," Barnes said, expression slanting wryly with what looked like long-earned cynicism. "And seriously, who has shields but no weapons? You've just told me there's gangsters, near enough that you can make an emergency stop on their planet, and you're running without weapons? Even if there weren't gangsters, what about pirates? Or are you going to tell me that there aren't any of those?"

The Nubians looked offended, and worse, humiliated. The current situation had made clear the problem that Naboo had, as a prosperous and largely pacifistic world. Namely, as the Trade Federation had so brutally demonstrated and Barnes was so bluntly pointing out; their stance - while noble - now looked hopelessly naive. The only exceptions were their steadily impassive Queen and her equally unreadable handmaidens - one of whom was currently acting as the Queen. Obi-Wan had picked out the real Amidala, and he knew that Qui-Gon had as well. That was not a surprise. Disguises and acting, no matter how adept, rarely held up to Force-based observation. What was surprising was that he was beginning to suspect that Barnes had too.

"Oh, there are pirates, too," he admitted, with a sigh. "We might be lucky enough to befriend some on Tatooine; better than Hutts, to be honest."

"Naboo vessels normally stick to reputable  and safe  trade lanes," the pilot protested. "No need for weapons there."

"If you say so," Barnes said sourly, not sounding convinced in the least.

"If we want to find parts and fuel, we will need to set down on an inhabited world," Qui-Gon pointed out. "Of those in range, Tatooine is the only one guaranteed to have no Federation presence, yet still likely to have what we need."

Barnes sighed, and rolled his eyes. "I don't know the territory well enough to argue, but there might be an 'I told you so' coming later." He then focused on Obi-Wan. "Can I speak with you alone?"

---

Once on the ship, with everyone running around to get to their posts and escape the planet, Cosmo ducked out of the way of all the people who might trip over her, and followed Jar Jar Binks into the room he was told to quietly wait in. She quietly waited, too.

She could sort of tell, in spite of the lack of sound in space, that their ship was not faring well. The impacts were audible, at least. And the sense of proximity when they swooped a certain way told her they'd gotten close to another ship.

She could probably pilot this thing, if she tried, but there were people here whose actual job that was, and she wasn't about to impose.

She just crouched down in a corner, with her ears down and her eyes open, and waited.

When it was all over, and starting to feel safe again, she noticed a girl arrive, with one of the ship's service-mechs. Cosmo got a feeling this girl was strong-willed, and thus was drawn to her, the same way she gravitated towards the Soldier.

"Oh, hello!" the girl called, upon seeing her. That same higher-pitch people always used when they thought they were talking to an animal rather than a sentient.

"Hello!" Cosmo answered perkily.

"Oh, you're sentient, I'm sorry, I assumed-"

"Oh, I'm a cute puppers, too. I don't mind that part," Cosmo said, perking up her ears and wagging her tail a little. 

"Puppers?"

"One of many terms of affection people on my planet have for my kind. I'm a dog. Baby dogs are puppies. Doggo and pupper are descriptions I appreciate. But my name is Cosmo."

"It's nice to meet you, Cosmo. I'm Padmé."

---

Bucky had seen the way the Gungan leader had obeyed Jinn's exact words.

He had seen the way Binks had positively collapsed, when Jinn ordered him to relax, too. Kenobi had even quipped, "I think you overdid it."

He didn't like what those moments implied about the Jedi's abilities. However, he also recognised that for now, he had to work with them because he knew basically nothing else in this new era.

He had seen the way the Jedi fought with laser swords. Sure, Cosmo was impressed by the simple idea, but the amount of finesse required not to take one's own arm off, the training to compensate for a weapon with zero mass, and the sheer competence the Jedi displayed in those fights, reflecting laser bolts back at their point of origin using the blade of said sword. Those reflexes, that speed and precision, all said ‘enhanced'. They weren't just one offs, either - they had implied an organisation, as had everyone else who'd reacted to them. Had some other variant of HYDRA's experiments taken off? And if they had, how far had the results gone? Or was this a natural mutation over the thousands  of years that had passed? He had encountered mutants before, but like most other enhanced people on Earth, they had tended to be unique deviations from the norm, rather than an entire group.

He had a laundry list of questions for them, but what concerned him the most right now was the prospect of walking into a den of gangsters uninformed.

"What can you tell me about these Hutts?" he asked, as soon as Kenobi found them a private room to speak in. "If we're going into their territory, I won't walk in blind."

Kenobi nodded, and pulled out a small device that projected a hologram like those that Tony Stark had invented. The thought made him feel a twinge of guilt, as it always did, but he was focused on the immediate situation and pushed it aside. The one difference was that the images here were all blue-tinted, instead of full colour.

"The Hutt Cartel spans these planets in the outer rim," Kenobi explained. A little map of the galaxy appeared, zooming in to the right side, and highlighting a string of dots representing star systems, which shifted smoothly to show names and what Bucky presumed were coordinates. The last one to highlight was Tatooine, on the lower leftmost edge of the group. It zoomed in further, to showed a star system consisting of two suns and two planets, then in again to the planet with the closest of the two orbits. This planet had three moons.

"Hutts are a sentient species of non-humanoid life-" The hologram shifted to show a very large slug-like creature, and standing next to it was a human for comparison. "While the majority of Hutts live in these systems, and tend to be viewed by Republic citizens with suspicion due to the Cartel's reputation, only their criminal ruling class are considered actively hostile."

Bucky nodded in understanding. Assuming first contact - and perhaps most other dealings in general - was done through a criminal caste, of course people would distrust them. It wasn't fair to any given individual who might not be a criminal, but it was an understandable sort of caution, really.

"The Cartel is well-known for dealing in anything that's illegal in the Republic," Kenobi continued. "A lot of people who choose to break the law go through them, and that tends to end badly more often than not. They are willing to work with the Jedi often enough, but only as a means of getting rid of us as quickly as possible, to avoid disruption to their enterprises - at best, they resent our presence. Our best bet will be to find an independent trader, and avoid the Hutts' notice."

"What about Tatooine in general?" Bucky asked.

"Well, it's a desert world. It might have been more hospitable in your time, but that's mostly a legend, as far as I can tell. Binary star system, as you can see, meaning that every few thousand years you get full-cycle sunlight even at the equator. Our charts suggest the suns are aligning for the time being, so we shouldn't have to worry about that. Because it's in Hutt space, we don't really have much more to go on, I'm afraid. I'd expect to find we're not the only ones using it to avoid, ah, 'authorities'."

Bucky nodded slowly, taking this in. In other words, Madripoor, but sandier.

"Hmm, and this political mess we're involved in, now?"

"The Trade Federation are clearly in the wrong here," Kenobi insisted. "We'll bring the matter before the Republic Senate, and it should be resolved that way."

"Your previous pilot said it should be easy, too," Bucky pointed out darkly. "Doesn't seem to me like they're being reasonable."

"We will continue to do what we can to resolve this conflict," Kenobi replied, and there was a hint of steel in his voice and a look in his eyes that Bucky found comforting given the circumstances Kenobi was setting himself against. It contrasted with the younger man's persistent case of baby face. Frankly, it reminded him of Steve. "One way or another."

Bucky restrained a snort of amusement. Yes. Definitely  like Steve.

“Is something amusing?” 

Now that asperity, and that accent, were more like Peggy.

"No," Bucky said, and sighed. "You just remind me of an old friend. My oldest."

Kenobi's expression creased up in sympathy, but before he could say anything, Bucky summoned his best crooked smile.

"He never knew when to back down, either."

---

Chapter Text

---

"Alright," Jinn declared when the ship landed on Tatooine. "Barnes, R2, you're with me."

Bucky followed along, having reluctantly exchanged his stolen weapon for a more discreet pair of handguns given to him by the Queen's guard, Captain Panaka - who had given him a slightly intimidated look as he got a close up look at the size and heft of the droideka cannon.

"Will my arm draw attention, or are cybernetics normal around here?" he asked Jinn bluntly. "Because I can  leave it behind, but I'd really rather not."

"No one will consider it unusual," Jinn assured him. "Especially dressed like that. You look like a bounty hunter."

Bucky glanced down at what he was wearing. It was what he had awoken in, after being freed from Knowhere; a high-quality replica of the Winter Soldier gear, though not quite a perfect one. He was just going to quietly assume that the Collector was a fan, and be happy they had never really met. For whose sake, he wasn't sure.

He had also picked up a hooded thigh-length coat, which he had found on the ship. It was clearly designed more for appearance than practicality, but was made of solid enough material to still be functional. No one had complained when he had taken it, and he had chosen it because it fit him, and it was mostly black... even if it did have a few highlights of dark red and muted teal.

"Is that good?" he asked.

"Here? Yes," Obi-Wan offered, from the doorway leading to the rest of the ship. "I feel the more pressing question is, are you sure you'll be okay wearing all black in a desert?"

"The coat is a thermoweave-durasilk blend," one of the ship's crew observed. "It's designed for most extreme conditions, though I imagine a desert like this might test even it."

"I lived in a hot climate for three years," Bucky added. "When you're new to it, every instinct says dark fabric will cook you alive, but if the clothing is loose like this coat, it actually helps. Now, my tactical gear underneath, not so great... but not in direct sunlight either, so..." he shrugged.

As they made their way off the ship, Cosmo tried to follow, but stopped at the bottom of the ramp. Every time she set a paw on the sand, she whined and stepped back. It must be too hot for her, but she clearly wanted  to join them, and kept trying for almost a minute before finally admitting defeat.

"Mesa come along also!" Binks declared.

"No thank you, Jar Jar," Qui-Gon replied, with obvious forced calm. "We don't want to bring a crowd. Barnes is clearly a more competent combatant if the unfortunate should occur... and besides, you're aquatic; I'm sure you would prefer the refined ship's air to an arid desert."

"Hmmm," Binks eyed the desert dubiously. "Youse may be havin' a point there." And so he backed up.

Jinn was just turning to leave with his chosen companions, when Captain Panaka called out, "Wait!" Jinn turned to face him, as he stepped onto the ramp. "Her Highness commands you to take her handmaiden with you."

The girl in question was at the Captain's side. Bucky had seen her chatting with Cosmo earlier. She'd had a bright smile then, but wore a very serious yet deliberately blank expression now. He restrained a smirk. A handmaiden, huh? And he was the Queen of Sheba.

Jinn shook his head. "No more commands from Her Highness today, Captain," he dismissed. "The spaceport is not going to be pleasant."

Bucky was put in mind of the way Shuri would put on civilian clothing and join him on trips to the markets, hoping and failing to go unrecognised (to be fair, she had chosen to walk next to The Most Obvious Outsider; how was she expecting to pass unnoticed?)... and he examined the girl all the more closely for it. Those handmaidens sure did all manage to blend into the background and look homogenous. Good for servants of the more discreet kind, but that wasn't all it was. The way they moved, the way they paid attention to their surroundings while making sure no one paid attention to them, or to the fact that they were doing so? That screamed training. Not Widow level training, but they were better than a fair number of agents he'd met. Combined with the similarity in looks, that said body-doubles and body-guards, too.

"The Queen wishes it," Panaka insisted. "She's curious about the planet."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at the girl. She looked younger than the Queen, but was that just the makeup? She spotted him watching, and he smirked faintly. He winked. Her eyes widened. Not fear, but that 'caught out' look. His sisters used to have the exact same expression when he would notice they were up to something they thought was sneaky.

Such childish naivety compared to the things he'd seen in his long life. It was kind of endearing, even if it was both dangerous and frankly, kind of stupid, in this situation.

Jinn sighed. "This is not a good idea," he insisted, but he had given in. "Stay close to me," he commanded the girl.

Bucky started humming as they walked off towards the city.

"That's a beautiful song," the girl commented after a few moments.

"It's from my home planet," he answered, with a knowing smile. He had Shuri to blame for the fact he knew this song, and all. "It's called 'A Whole New World' ."

---

It was a long walk, and most of it in silence.

Padmé knew she had been recognised by the man who had shown up to save her alongside the Jedi - Barnes, that was what Qui-Gon had called him - yet he hadn't told the Jedi about it, or surely she would not have been allowed to follow along.

He even sang part of the song, at her request - though she had the feeling there was some meaning to it he wasn't sharing.

" A whole new world, a dazzling place I never knew,
But when I'm way up here, it's crystal clear,
That now I'm in a whole new world with you.

Unbelievable sights, indescribable feeling,
Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling, through an endless diamond sky.

A whole new world, a hundred thousand things to see,
I'm like a shooting star, I've come so far,
I can't go back to where I used to be."

She would swear some emotion choked him on that last line, and that was where he chose to stop, rather than where it really ended.

Cosmo had said she and Barnes were from the same planet, and the Jedi had been transporting them when they got the call from the Chancellor's office to rush to Naboo's aid. Beyond that, she knew nothing about him, save that the Jedi clearly trusted his competence, if nothing else. Given what she'd seen of him, she could believe that.

In fact, Cosmo hadn't really revealed all that much at all, just chatted idly with her. Incredibly friendly, and easy to like, but not very forthcoming with useful information. She got the feeling the quadruped had learned more about Padmé than the other way around. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered where these two really came from, and how they had ended up with the Jedi on this mission. It was a distraction, but a part of her had to admit that it was a welcome one.

Another part, one that might make her blush a little, would also happily admit that he was at least a pleasant looking distraction: tall, dark, and handsome had been the consensus among her handmaids. That consensus, however, had also settled on something else - dangerous . He might be nice to look at, but he had also demonstrated the ability to match the performance of an experienced Jedi Master and his Padawan. Granted, he was the kind of dangerous that seemed to be on their side, at least for the time being, but he was an unknown and in a situation like this, unknowns were not a luxury she would want to afford.

The Jedi implied he only looked  like a bounty hunter, but he certainly did look the part. And that weapon he had wielded on Naboo - a severed destroyer-droid arm! Surely proper security personnel would never be so extravagant and flashy about their work?

She listened as Qui-Gon gave a rather poor attempt at a tour guide's speech, regarding what he knew of the settlement they were entering, and for the most part her focus was on her surroundings, but a small amount of her attention remained focused on Barnes. There was something very strange about him.

The three of them travelling together made what she would imagine to be an unusual group; a plainly dressed man and girl, accompanied by what looked very much like an incredibly dangerous bounty hunter. Qui-Gon himself gave off an air of authority, and Padmé was doing her best to appear small and not of interest. R2 by default would be mostly overlooked, as well.

Perhaps any observers would assume Barnes was hired muscle for their protection, but would that not draw some of the wrong sort of attention?

Qui-Gon guided them to a smaller shop, and they were greeted by a middle-aged and grizzled-looking Toydarian, who delivered a polite greeting in Huttese before a slightly ruder one in Basic.

Qui-Gon stated their requirements rather bluntly. He seemed bored, but she was sure that was an affectation. Barnes watched the Toydarian in an impassive yet calculating manner, as the shopkeep cheerfully announced he had lots of what they had asked for.

"/Boy, get in here now!/" the Toydarian yelled in the back, and while Qui-Gon continued his business discussion a blond human boy came running in from the back door of the shop. He couldn't be older than ten standard, Padmé was sure.

The Toydarian berated the boy, and ordered him to watch the shop while he took Qui-Gon off to talk business. Padmé frowned slightly at the way a child was being ordered around like that. She supposed, in a place like this, one had to be wary that their customers weren't stealing behind their backs. Still, he was only a boy.

"Are you an angel?" the boy asked her.

Barnes snorted with amusement at the boy's suggestion, while Padmé smiled at the child, confused. "What?" she asked.

"An angel. I heard the deep space pilots talk about them," the boy explained. "They're the most beautiful creatures in the universe. They live on the moons of Iago, I think."

"That's cute, Aladdin," Barnes told the boy, smiling as well. "I think she likes you, too."

Padmé blushed, but did her best to cover it up quickly. The boy grinned broadly at her. "You sound like you know a lot about space?" she asked him.

He nodded, still grinning brightly. "I listen to all the traders and star pilots who come through here. I'm a pilot, y'know, and someday I'm gonna fly away from this place."

"You're a pilot?" Padmé asked him.

"Mmhm, all my life!"

"How long have you been here?" she asked.

"Since I was very little. Three, I think. My mom and I were sold to Gardulla the Hutt, but she lost us betting on the podraces."

There was a loud clatter; she had almost forgotten Barnes was even present, until he had knocked something over, off the counter. A crate of parts, by the look of it, now scattered across the floor. Barnes moved to pick them up, but the boy was faster.

"No, no, I've got it!" the child insisted, carefully counting and checking the parts as he picked them up, to make sure they were all there and still intact.

Barnes stepped back, and then over next to Padmé. "Slavery?" he hissed in her ear, with a tone that sent a cold shiver running through her... as if he wished to personally eviscerate any and every slave owner for even daring to consider it, and the only reason she shouldn't be absolutely terrified of him right now was her own lack of participation.

"I hadn't realised it was still practised outside the Republic," she admitted softly. "That poor boy, a slave."

"I'm a person, and my name is Anakin!" the boy shouted sharply, picking up the box full of dropped objects and putting them back on the counter.

"Wow, my guess was close," Barnes muttered, clearly quite surprised by this.

"I'm sorry, I don't fully understand," Padmé told Anakin gently. "This is a strange place to me."

"Yeah, we're not from around here," Barnes agreed. "Where we're from slavery is illegal."

"Wow," Anakin said, wistfully.

Just then, Qui-Gon returned, swooping through the shop, and declaring curtly, "We're leaving."

Barnes stepped up close to Qui-Gon, as soon as they were out of the shop, keeping pace with him as he hissed darkly. "So slavery's still a thing. In fact, almost every bad thing from my time still seems to exist here in this time."

"Time?" Padmé asked dubiously.

"We rescued Barnes and Cosmo from stasis on an ancient exo-habitat, mere hours before we were sent to Naboo," Qui-Gon told her curtly. "We have no idea how long they were trapped there."

As Padmé reeled from this blunt revelation, Barnes growled in a way that made her glad that the Toydarian wasn't present. If he had been, she was quite sure that he wouldn't have lived long enough to regret it. "Nothing changes. Everyone talks about how things will get better if you keep trying, but-" He stopped and shook his head violently, clearly seething.

"We don't have either the time or the resources to eliminate slavery in the Outer Rim whilst simultaneously trying to repair our ship and return urgently to Coruscant. This mission has to take priority."

"I get it, we're trying to save one group of people, but why ignore another?" Barnes demanded harshly.

"If you think you can eliminate Hutt influence on an entire planet, all on your own, then by all means try!" Qui-gon snapped sharply, under his breath so the locals hopefully wouldn't hear.

Barnes just grinned at him coldly. "Thanks for the permission... but I was going to anyway." With that, he took a step back and almost literally disappeared, melting into the crowd in only a few steps.

"What the-?" Qui-Gon demanded, shocked.

"I mean, is he wrong to try?" Padmé asked.

"If... if he can succeed, no, but I very much doubt he can," Qui-Gon admitted. He shook his head, and made his way over to a quiet corner, to call Obi-Wan and try to figure out how to get the money for the parts they needed.

---

Still seething, Bucky took a couple of random turns, in the hopes of shaking any tails, then set off in the direction of the largest building in the settlement. Power liked big and flashy, even when it worked behind the scenes - in the latter case, the flash was a disguise or a front. Either way, it was a starting point. Even if it wasn't the right place, he could work his way up from there. A large part of him was darkly relishing the prospect, both of dealing out deserved violence, and of having a purpose again. A target.

He had never really had a mission that entailed having to identify targets for himself; even back during the War, it had been planned in advance. They'd improvised, yes, a lot, but that was based on pre-existing intel. At the most, he'd had to find an already known entity who was well hidden. Still, he understood how seedy underworlds worked, and since nothing else had changed, and apparently he could understand most of the local languages, then he was off to a good start.

He had noticed the fact that the flying being in the shop had spoken another language from everyone else, but he had been able to process the words and make sense of them in a way he knew he shouldn't normally. He would have to figure out how that worked later, but for now it was an invaluable addition to his skill set.

The largest building turned out to be a spaceport, and it was accompanied right next door by a very seedy looking bar.

Well, asking questions at a port was not going to help. The bar, on the other hand, looked promising.

He entered the building, sat down at the bar, and placed one of his two pistols on the counter. "I've got no money on me, but how much for this?"

A small stack of metal coins were slid across the counter towards him, and the pistol was promptly claimed by the being behind the counter. He wasn't sure what this creature was, but he was guessing they were male. Tall, with red skin and thick black horns about a hand-span long, one of which was broken about halfway.

Whatever they were, they were also a good bartender, because alongside the currency - he was just going to go ahead and assume he'd been ripped off, but he had bigger things to worry about - he was also given a shot of clear liquid.

"Not seen you around here before," the bartender said in what sounded like the same language as the winged being in the junk shop, but Bucky understood it all the same. Besides, leading lines carried the same sound wherever you were in the universe.

"Just passing through," he answered, taking the shot in one. It burned like cheap vodka. Cheap vodka, with a chaser of battery acid. "Anything interesting going on?"

The bartender seemed to reevaluate him, after he held that drink without flinching - or worse, yet more likely for the average human, choking - and poured him another. "Boonta Eve's bringing in a lot of new business. Might find a contract or six cropping up on the board." A nod to a console near the bar. A man who fit the 'bounty hunter' profile Bucky had accidentally slipped into was working at the console, as he looked.

"Sounds good," Bucky said. "Any advice?"

"Steer clear of Bane; he's on Hutt business." Another nod, this time to an extremely thin blue-skinned being with a bulbous head, large all-red eyes, and a wide brimmed hat.

"Thanks," he raised his glass and downed it in one again.

The stranger at the console walked away, and Bucky left half the coins on the counter, as he moved over to examine the console. He heard the bartender reclaim the money, as he scrolled through the list of job postings. The written language was the same as the spoken, in that he could almost feel it translating in his head. In fact, he was acutely aware of the dissonance of unfamiliar markings feeling just like English words.

Hunt down an escaped slave; 500w - he assumed the 'w' stood for the local currency.

Recover stolen goods from a Raider attack; 10,000w .

He glanced at his coins. They added up to 20w. Accounting for two cheap drinks, his pistol had probably been sold for about 50w... making it likely worth about 100w, at a rough guess. Assuming he'd only been slightly ripped off, and the bartender knew what a good gun looked like.

He kept on reading, but those first two jobs looked like his best options. The board wasn't asking him for personal details; it was willing to dispense these missions anonymously. That alone spoke volumes of the local standards and expectations. He wanted to figure out how the slavery thing worked; what was keeping them from revolt? Finding a runaway would be a good way to do that, so he'd take the job but not complete it. As for the raider attack; 10,000w seemed to be the highest paying on the list that didn't look like it would draw the wrong people's attention.

Most of those other higher-paying jobs were working directly for named Hutts... and against other named Hutts. Gardulla had put a lot of hits out recently, and so had Jabba... most notably on each other.

That was just downright surprising, really. It was bad for the entire local criminal class, and spoke of poor self-discipline, to be polite about it. It was a dangerous line for people in that sort of business to cross, as it risked cutting too deeply into their bottom lines, and devaluing whatever assets they could claim if they won. There must be some deep bad blood there for them to have resorted to this behaviour. But it could prove useful to Bucky.

Maybe they could buy their ship parts with 10,000w? He wasn't sure, but if not, he was fairly sure he could get more money from the rest of his self-appointed mission. And wouldn't it be amusing to walk up to the Jedi with the key to ending slavery and  resolving their situation, in one shot?

He claimed those first two jobs, and a chip was generated by the console. When he pressed the button on the chip, it produced a readout which gave him directions of how to proceed; the raiders job simply gave the location of the raider camp, a list of items to recover, and a location to return them to, while the slave job asked him to meet the girl's owner first, to get her 'monitor', so he could track her.

He went to the slaver first.

"I only keep her because she's so good with the children, you know?" the slaver was a middle-aged human woman. "I can't keep up with the shop, and caring for them at the same time, now my husband's gone... and at least with me she's safe from what the Hutts would use her for."

The earnestness was genuine, and that alone brought bile to the back of his throat. She genuinely believed that she was doing this girl a favour by owning her, by treating her as property . She thought that she was being a good person. If she really cared, he thought furiously, she'd let her go - and get on her knees and beg for forgiveness while she was at it.

He supposed that it was possible that some citizens would work within the monstrous system to try to do the least harm they were able - he had seen that during the War, as well as his time with HYDRA. Yes, it was possible that was what this woman was trying to do.

But even so, it was hard, borderline impossible, to reconcile. A large part of him simply couldn't believe what he was seeing, how care could exist alongside ownership of another sentient being, and was set to put it down to delusion - or, frankly, just a severely fucked up values system. Then, he realised what it was like. What it was exactly  like.

Of course this woman cared. Of course she wanted the girl safe. 

After all, he thought bitterly. Good people cared  for their pets.

As it was, he let none of this show, wearing the stoic mask he'd long practised with HYDRA.

"I'll make sure she's safe," he promised instead, as she handed over the 'monitor'. It showed a map of the city, and a flashing dot out beyond it. "Where's this?" he asked.

"It's dangerous to go outside the walls," the woman explained. "Raiders will kill you as soon as look at you. But a monitor only broadcasts while they're alive... and if Raiders have her alive,  that would be worse than if they'd just shoot her. I'm hoping she just ran off, and isn't in any real danger."

Bucky nodded on autopilot. 

Once he was outside, and heading for the edge of the city, he glanced at his bounty chip. "Huh, same place." That was eerily convenient - but probably bad news for the slave girl.

As he reached the gates, a man who looked like he was trying to pass for security tried to stop him. "Sandstorm's coming in; you'd be best waiting 'til morning."

He didn't listen, and just pulled on the mask and goggles that came with his ridiculously accurate replica Winter Soldier armour (this Collector person was sick), and started walking towards the glowing red dot on both maps.

---

Kara Zhen had been a slave all her life.

She considered herself very lucky to have been bought by a kindly woman who wanted her to do the housework and child-rearing, instead of some man looking to use her for pleasure. Or worse, a Hutt looking to use her for pleasure. Twi'lek slaves often ended up in those dire circumstances, and she was just grateful not to have been in their place.

But now, she had been taken by Tusken Raiders, for daring to venture outside the walls to buy water from a local moisture farmer at the wrong time. Usually, the water trader came into the city, but with Boonta Eve approaching, security had been increased. Her owner's family needed water (and she was always given her share), and the trader was just  outside the wall.

It hadn't seemed like that big a risk. Then, the Raiders had showed up.

There were a total of seven prisoners, herself included. There had been eleven at first, but the others had been taken away, and not returned. She had heard their screams. Deep down, she could still hear them.

There was a sandstorm, now, so she would have to wait until it was over for her turn. Not that she wanted her turn, of course, but the waiting and anticipation was still awful. Just let it happen. Let it end .

She was dragged out of her spiralling reverie by new sounds from outside the tent. Rending, ripping. Tuskens screaming, howling war cries, cries often sharply cut off. Blaster fire. Thumps and crashes.

All the prisoners sat up and listened, huddled in fear.

What could possibly come through here during a storm?

A Krayt Dragon, perhaps?

Or... something else...?

There were stories passed between slaves, secret stories of hidden beings who would wreak havoc on slavers and other cruel rulers. Tricking slavers into freeing or losing their slaves, tricking terrible monsters and villains into harming themselves instead of their true prey. Perhaps such a being was here for the Raiders?

She didn't really believe it, but she hoped.

Eventually, the sounds outside stopped. All of them. None of them dared breathe, as the storm howled outside.

The storm continued for another hour, before the sands settled, and then a humanoid figure entered their tent. Masculine, wearing black clothing and a hooded coat, with a mask covering the lower face and goggles over the eyes. He slowly reached up and removed those last two articles to reveal a human face with the brightest of blue eyes.

"Well, I guess I'm here to rescue all of you, but I was specifically sent for Kara Zhen."

In terrified awe, Kara raised her hand, while the others began to murmur in confusion.

When she stepped outside, she saw that the entire rest of the camp - save one small tent that she guessed their rescuer had sheltered in after he had finished his grisly work - was destroyed. Dozens of Raider corpses were scattered across the ground. The other prisoners cautiously followed, though they kept their distance from her and their saviour. Slaves were naturally disposed to avoid attracting attention. Now, as they took in the destruction, she heard one other slave whisper, "It's a miracle! He swept in on the storm and destroyed them all!"

It certainly did not seem possible or reasonable, and yet it had happened. Perhaps this man was - or was aided by - the secret beings the stories told of. How else could he have found his way through a storm of such ferocity, and unleashed such a fury?

The man who had saved them all beckoned Kara closer, so she obeyed. "I need to talk to you about the general concept of slavery."

She blinked, surprised. "If you wish," she said, confused.

"Your owner put up a bounty to bring you back alive and unharmed," he told her. "If you're happy to be returned to her, I'll do it." His mouth twisted at the very idea. "But personally? I'd rather free you. You deserve the chance to make your own choices. Everyone does."

Kara's hands flew to her mouth in shock, as she stared at the man. "You wish to free me?"

Those blue eyes flashed, like lightning across a clear sky.

"No one should have that sort of power over other people," he said, cold as the desert night. From experience, she could tell. Her eyes found themselves drawn to the black and gold metal prosthetic. The way slave detonators worked... perhaps he had broken his own chains.

"My master is kind, as these things go, and I have some protection from those who would hurt me, by writ of being owned already," she explained. He nodded, seeming to understand. "I am grateful for your offer, but unless you have transport offworld, or mean to end  slavery..."

She trailed off, as if to underline the absurdity of this.

"I do," he said evenly. "Mean to end slavery, that is. Still working on the transport." He gave her a dazzling smile that made her heart skip a beat. "Actually, I was hoping you could help me."

But then suddenly, he swung a pistol up, aimed at one of the other prisoners, who had been reaching for a nearby crate.

"That is not yours," their rescuer said coldly.

This former-prisoner was one of the more well-off shopkeepers from the spaceport, and he froze, limbs raised in surrender. She caught an awful noseful of the scent his species emitted when afraid.

"I was paid to return it to its rightful owner," their rescuer explained. "I'll also return you to safety if you like, but you don't get to loot."

She stared at the object in question. It was a crate labelled as vaporators. There was a speeder, two speeder bikes, and a few other crates of supplies clearly gathered in a circle, ready for transport.

"Will you help me?" he asked Kara.

She nodded. "What do you need?"

He sat down on the edge of the speeder, and she hopped up to join him. "First, tell me, how do they keep you in line? What prevents people from just running away?"

"There is a detonator hidden, somewhere in every slave's body. Never the same place, but usually somewhere lethal, or somewhere that would mean that the slave retains some value, should they survive. A labourer wouldn't have his detonator in an arm or a leg; more likely somewhere in his torso or even skull. A pleasure girl wouldn't have it around her hips or chest... but that doesn't allow us to know where it is , only where it likely isn't."

Those eyes vanished behind the goggles again, while his expression turned calculating.

"So if you run away..."

"Boom," she finished for him, with an explosive hand-gesture. "The only reason we-" she gestured to the two other slaves nearby, "-are still standing is likely that our owners knew we didn't leave willingly."

For some reason, this made his expression go hard, his jaw tensing. 

"So this 'monitor' device your owner gave me, to track you?" he asked, clearly controlling a surge of anger.

"It can trace the location of our detonators, yes," she admitted. "It is a death sentence, by Hutt law, for any slave to ever touch a monitor, never mind try to use it."

"Hmm..." he trailed off thoughtfully, scanning her carefully with the monitor. "Is it illegal for me to tell you where it is?"

"Not... technically," she admitted nervously.

"Right ankle, just above the joint."

The other two slaves had taken notice, and approached. "Will you reveal ours?" the human elder asked.

Their rescuer did as he was asked, pointing out a spot near the elder's collarbone, and one on the hip of the younger man.

"Lucky," the younger man accused Kara. "You might survive your detonation."

"And I wouldn't be going anywhere after," she retorted curtly, folding her arms and turning away from him.

"How would one deactivate these?" their rescuer asked.

"Now hang on a minute!" one of the others - a slaver-owner, she thought - demanded. "You can't just-"

"You'd all be dead if not for me," their rescuer told the man, brutal and accurate and even with those eyes covered, she could sense the murderous glare, the sheer contempt it conveyed. "I don't think anyone would be surprised if, tragically, I didn't succeed in saving everyone."

The slaver's eyes widened, and he swallowed, shrinking back.

"You'd need the trigger," Kara explained. "Each owner gets a monitor and trigger, and there's a code for each slave. I've heard rumours of a Hutt master code, to set them all off in case of a revolt, but only Gardulla or Jabba would have that."

"Would the master code be able to deactivate them, as well?" he asked.

"I mean, I think so?" she said, nervously. "Theoretically yes, but it was never intended for that."

"Would you like to help me find out?" he asked her, glancing at the other two slaves to include them in the offer, as well.

"Yes!" the Zabrak responded eagerly. The elder of the two nodded slowly, as well.

Kara thought about it for a moment, then slowly nodded. "If you really think you can end slavery?"

"I already had a good half of a plan," their rescuer admitted, smirking. "And this conversation has helped push it up to ninety percent. I just need to check a few more details, then yeah, we can definitely do this. My name's Bucky, by the way."

"Alvern," the elder slave introduced.

"Derrin," the Zabrak added.

They already knew her name.

Bucky stood and looked at the other former-prisoners. Three free people, and one slaver. None of them were in very good physical condition, after the Raiders' treatment, but they all were all at least able to stand. "Are any of you going to try to stand in my way?" he asked ominously.

The others nervously exchanged looks. Then the slaver hesitantly stepped forward. "If you're serious, I'd rather be on the winning side. Hutts are bad news for everyone, not just slaves."

The look their rescuer directed his way carried more than its share of contempt, drawing a flinch, but not dismissal. The reasoning was sound enough.

"I won't stand in your way," he went on. "But I don't think any of us are fit to fight, either."

The three free people nodded along with him, each mumbling agreement, with varying degrees of conviction. The slaver was the least eager, but what slavers understood above all was power. He could be trusted to follow his own self-interest. At the moment, that was not provoking the man who had walked through a sandstorm to slaughter an entire encampment of Tusken Raiders without, apparently, even taking a scratch.

Bucky nodded slowly, taking in their reactions carefully, lingering particularly on the slaver. "I'm not asking any of you to fight, but you could all be able to help."

---

Chapter Text

---

"Hello again, Anakin," the man from yesterday said, waving in a friendly way, as he entered the shop.

Anakin had just been getting ready to tell Watto about the plan to enter the swoop race - the censored version where he said it was Qui-Gon's pod racer, and didn't mention that Qui-Gon was a Jedi - and Watto was just fluttering in from the back now.

"Oh, hey, you again!" Watto called. "What d'you want now?"

"I got some money, and I was wondering just how much it would take to get that part my friend asked after?"

"You got real money, now? That was fast," Watto grumbled. "I hope you didn't kill anyone I know for it, eh?"

Anakin stared with wide eyes, as the man opened up a case full of coins. That was a lot of money! "So that ship part?"

"Well, there was a list, not just the one part, mind you. Your friend wanted about six thousand wupiupi worth of materials." Watto scratched an ear, staring intently at the coins, clearly trying to figure out how to get the rest of that money, because that was more than six thousand, easy.

"And how much for a few hours of Anakin's time?" he glanced at Anakin, who stared wide-eyed at the request. "You said you can fix anything, right? I'm not sure how good our ship's mechanics are, to be honest."

"Ah, well that would be another thousand, easy. Ani's the best!"

"What's going on here?" There was Qui-Gon and Padmé, just arriving at the shop now!

"I got your money," the other man told Qui-Gon. "And I'm a few hours out from completing my own project, as well."

"A few hours?" Qui-Gon sounded shocked. "How-?"

"Do you want the money, or can I go and spend it on weapons?" the man asked, only half-joking, Anakin would guess.

"I- yes, of course, we need the money."

"I'll meet you at the city gates an hour before first sunset," the man said, beckoning Anakin to follow him, as he passed the case of coins off to Qui-Gon. "Make sure this guy doesn't short-change us; that's eight thousand wupiupi, and he said we owe him around seven."

Anakin grinned and waved at Padmé as he ran past to follow the man. She gave him a confused and stunned look, clearly surprised by the turn of events.

"Well, so much for that plan," Qui-Gon muttered.

"This worked out much better," Padmé replied, before Ani got too far to hear anymore.

He jogged to catch up with the man. "You got a new gun," he asked, staring at the very long blaster on his back.

"Best sniper rifle the shop had," the man answered, looking pleased with himself. "I'm going to need it, later on."

Anakin frowned slightly at that thought. Who was he going to shoot? But then he shook his head and focused on the important things. "So, what am I gonna fix?"

The man laughed, and suddenly Anakin realised he was being led was very much not  towards the city exit, where the ship must be. Ani stopped in his tracks, and the man noticed immediately. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, changing his tune from amused to serious in an instant, as if he had only just realised the implication here. "I can't tell you what the project is in public, but I promise, your part in it only involves technology beyond my level."

Ani scowled, but nodded and continued to follow, more cautiously now.

"This is the main comms centre," he declared, as they entered the building. "What're we doing here?"

The man looked around thoughtfully, and decided they didn't have an audience, so he could talk now. "We're going to send a signal. I want you to stay here, while I go and get the data we need, and as soon as I comm you the signal, you broadcast it planet-wide."

Anakin frowned with thought. "That'll take some work, but I should be able to hack into the main comms to do it. Yeah, I can do it. What's it for?"

He was led into a side-room, near the main comm access, and there was a very pretty red-skinned Twi'lek waiting. She smiled at the man, but then frowned at Anakin. "He's only a child, are you sure he has the skills?" she asked.

"Best we can find who won't go and tell on us," he replied, while Anakin scowled at the two of them. "I'm already dubious of those four, from the campsite." He then turned to Anakin, "This is Kara, she's going to watch out for you, while I get the data, okay?"

Anakin frowned, but nodded. "Okay."

"Now, when we get the data, it's going to include two signal frequencies. They ought to look similar to these." He showed Anakin a screen with two waveforms on it. "It is extremely  important that we only send out the one that matches the top one here. Okay?"

Anakin looked at the two waveforms. They were very  different and he definitely wouldn't mix them up. He nodded firmly. "Yeah, I can do that."

"It'll probably take a couple of hours before I call you. Be ready to send the signal as soon as I do." And with that, he left.

Anakin sat on a crate across the small room from Kara, and watched her for a minute.

"Bucky said he was bringing a tech, but I wasn't expecting someone so young," Kara admitted.

"I can fix anything!" Anakin declared determinedly.

"Well, then, shall we get to work?" she gestured to the comm room next door. Ani glanced at the door. It was weird how it was unguarded like this.

"Why're there no guards?" he asked.

"They're dealing with a traders' disagreement," Kara explained. "It won't get violent; we orchestrated it that way on purpose."

"Okay, what's really  going on?" Anakin demanded.

Kara smiled, and it was a look of wonder but also of fervent true belief. "We're going to end slavery on Tatooine."

---

Daril Mitbroc had been a fairly average slave owner on Tatooine. He had been born into a moisture-farming family that owned three good workers who had never made a fuss, and he'd never really thought about how horrible it could be to be a slave before.

But that girl, Kara, had scared him with talk of what can happen when the owner isn't just an average citizen trying to make a living. When they're a sick sadist who takes pleasure in other people's pain, and can get away with it because of the way this place worked.

If freeing the slaves didn't hurt him, he wasn't going to stand in the way.

In fact, given the little 'or else' speech he'd got from this 'Bucky' bounty hunter, he was going rather out of his way to be helpful.

The plan had been laid out to the group quite clearly, and his part was pivotal but also relatively harmless. Hutts like people who bring them currency and shiny things... and Bucky had given him a good five hundred wupiupi to bring for gifts and trade, and the promise of more for himself after it was done.

He presented himself to Gardulla, and explained he was in the market for a new labourer. Boasted about his family's admittedly modest reputation as good Hutt-obeying citizens, but the city was in a bit of disarray due to the upcoming celebration, and the usual places to buy were so crowded... so he explained that he'd thought to himself; why not go to the excellent and most glorious source herself?

After a scan for weapons - he only had a standard personal blaster, which he had handed over at the entrance, so when scanned he was clean - he was taken down to the slave pens for a 'grand tour' and an opportunity to take his pick from those within his price range.

Bucky had assured him of the timing, and he checked his chrono just as the guard was leading him into the main courtyard of the holding area. Seconds to go... and then perfectly on cue, the alarms blared. Several doors locked down and the guards ran back up towards the main throne room.

Daril cautiously approached the control room, which was predictably vacant, and spotted the obvious control device there. This was it; the master key.

He scanned it with the device Bucky had given him, and then sent the data on as planned... before casually returning to where he had been before.

All as planned, and no one should even suspect he did anything. He didn't even steal the device, only scanned it. The cameras down here were aimed at the slave pens, not the control room. There was no evidence of his involvement.

He waited for one of two inevitable things to happen. The plan to succeed... or the guards to return to continue his transaction. Either way was just fine by him.

---

Cad Bane stood in Gardulla's court, watching an entirely unfamiliar bounty hunter.

The man looked human, dressed in all black. The coat he wore was sand-burned in places, suggesting he'd been out in... inclement weather, and he wore a mask over his lower face. It distorted his voice slightly, but not enough to impede communication.

This upstart was offering to fulfil the hit on Jabba. Even Cad wasn't bold enough to try that one. His current employment was observing and reporting the inner workings of both Jabba and Gardulla's operations, back to the Cartel bosses on Nar Shaddaa, without letting either local Hutt know that was why he was here. This infighting between the two had been frowned upon for quite some time, now. Cad really didn't care about the local politics, beyond how it impacted his reputation and his wallet.

Still, this new hunter warranted some scrutiny.

He seemed wise, as hunters went, especially for fresh meat. He even offered Gardulla a gift of expensive wines. Naturally, her taster was made to drink first, but they passed that test, and she immediately gorged on the drink with evident pleasure.

As usual, Gardulla wanted her entertainment before getting down to business. She demanded the fresh meat prove himself in a duel, and sent some poor gladiator who had outlived his usefulness to fight the man.

It took one hit from the new hunter to defeat the seasoned gladiator; a swift step to the side to dodge the opening blow, and a metal fist to the kidney region... and the gladiator was down, just like that. Still breathing, but completely incapacitated.

Now that was impressive.

Gardulla grumbled about the lack of excitement, but agreed to the terms because this man seemed efficient. She gave him directions to a sniper's nest from which to take out Jabba in his own throne room. It was only theoretically possible, really. Not even Gardulla's best droids could make the shot, and they certainly had tried.

Then again, droids could only do so much. They lacked a certain touch that only true sentience provided. Intuition. Cad always figured it would take a combination of both high-end droid-like precision and  that spark of soul to achieve such theoretically 'impossible' feats of skill.

She taunted the new hunter as he left, but Cad saw the confidence in his stride. He believed he could do it. After the man was gone, Cad settled down to play cards with some minions, and wait for the next bit of interesting.

He didn't have long to wait.

Less than half an hour later, Gardulla keeled over, and the entire court went into uproar.

Cad glanced at the remote link to the bounty board, on his datapad. Gardulla's hit on Jabba, and Jabba's hit on Gardulla, just both got claimed simultaneously... by the same anonymous hunter.

Mere minutes later, the chaos not even settled yet, several slaves nearby yelped in shock, each reaching for a different part of their body, as if stung there... and then a modulated voice played over the sound system.

"Inhabitants of Tatooine, all slave transceivers on the planet have been permanently disabled. We're free!"

Cad stared at the speaker, utterly stunned, for a moment... then promptly stood up and left, before the shock could wear off from the guards and slaves. He was not about to get caught in the middle of this  mess.

There was fighting in the Hutt strongholds, but a large number of their slaves had been menial labour and gladiators, while the loyal guards had been massively demotivated by the loss of their leaders, and those who squabbled over who would succeed the Hutt leaders mostly killed each other off or were taken out by a good shot from defecting guards and rioting slaves.

The slaves won.

It was even more decisive in the city. Merchants and tradesmen, with no martial power over their former-property, surrendered immediately rather than daring to get hostile about it, and the slaves only resorted to outright violence when provoked.

As Cad passed by the slave square, he saw a young Lethan Twi'lek woman standing on a dais, rallying the attention of the masses there. "We cannot use force alone to hold this world. Other slavers will come and try to suppress us! We need to build our own power structure, that will care for and protect all  our people, and we need help to achieve true peace and safety! I propose we petition the Republic for membership!"

"Aye!" an elder human male slave called out from the crowd, stepping forward. Then another - a young male Zabrak. More swiftly followed suit.

Tatooine was the last planet Cad would have expected anything like this to ever happen on, and he kept well out of the way as he skirted around towards the spaceport. The new hunter was in the market, as Cad made his way through there. He was still wearing that half-mask, but Cad could see the smirk in his eyes.

This man was responsible, somehow.

And Cad knew far better than to challenge him here, in his victory. Especially as the man made no effort to pursue, when Cad fled.

No one tried to stop him from leaving. And worse, they could have. it hurt his pride terribly to run away like this, yet he had no other choice.

Him or any of the other ne'er-do-wells who were scrambling to get away before the Republic took notice of these former slaves and claimed them as citizens.

It wasn't safe for people like him here, anymore.

---

Qui-Gon stared, utterly dumbstruck, as the slave revolt reached its mostly-bloodless conclusion. The report was in of the death toll: two Hutts, about thirty criminals who had tried to take the Hutts' places, several skirmishes resulting in non-fatal injuries. One slave murdered in Jabba's fortress, and the man who killed her literally ripped apart by those who witnessed it.

And there was Barnes, sitting with Anakin in the main marketplace, eating pally fruits. Anakin was chattering about pod racing, and Barnes was just listening, looking very pleased with himself.

There was also a suspiciously large crate at Barnes' feet.

Shmi approached the pair, Anakin shouted something that included the words 'free all the slaves', and Shmi warmly embraced Barnes.

It was heartwarming.

But Qui-Gon had spoken with Shmi earlier, and they had talked about Anakin's abilities. Qui-Gon wanted to test Anakin's Force-affinity, and offer him a place with the Jedi if possible. So he approached. Padmé wasn't far behind him.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon called as they reached the group. "I was hoping to speak with you."

"You said you weren't here to free the slaves," Anakin said in a teasing tone that suggested Qui-Gon had been in on it the whole time.

"Well, I would have loved to, but I didn't know how. I'm glad our friend here did," Qui-Gon conceded. "And now that you're free, I am able to offer you the opportunity to apply to join the Jedi. We don't usually take on new initiates as old as you, but I'm willing to push for an exception to be made."

Anakin looked around at Shmi. "Can my mom come, too?"

"She can't join the Jedi, I'm afraid, but she can certainly accompany you to Coruscant, if she wishes."

"Shmi," Barnes spoke up. "Do you think you can turn this into something useful?" he kicked the crate under his feet, and it clattered with the sound of metal shifting on metal inside.

"What is it?" she asked dubiously.

"Approximately six million wupiupi. Some from the bounties on Jabba and Gardulla - I'm amazed I was able to collect, since they did put the hits out on each other - but most of it went mysteriously missing from Jabba's treasure vault, in all of the confusion. You don't want to spend it all at once, that would break the local economy... but as a fund for your people's new government?"

"I- I don't even know where to begin," Shmi admitted, stunned. "Why offer it to me?"

"Well, you seemed like you might at least know the right person to pass it off to; I don't want to give the next tyrant all the resources."

"Oh, of course!" Shmi said, beaming. "I know exactly who can handle this responsibility without it going to her head."

"Old Jira?" Anakin guessed.

Shmi nodded, smiling warmly. "We'll get this sorted away," she said, mostly to Barnes and Qui-Gon. "Speak to Jira and Kara, make sure there's nothing more we need to do, then meet you back here." She took Anakin's hand with one of her own, and the handle of the crate in the other, and set off towards what used to be the slave quarters. The crate's hover-engine made a few ominous noises about the weight it carried as they went.

Qui-Gon turned his full attention to Barnes. "I am impressed," he conceded. "In a little over a single cycle you walked onto an unfamiliar planet, entirely destabilised its admittedly criminal ruling class, incited one of the most bloodless coups I have ever witnessed, ended slavery on the entire planet, and sent quite the message to the Hutt Cartel."

Barnes smirked darkly. "I'm very good at what I do," he agreed with false cheer.

"Assassinating Hutts?"

"Well, the Hutts were new, I'll give you that." The false levity fell, and he stood to face Qui-Gon directly, on an even footing. "I was used, against my will, as a weapon to assassinate powerful people for decades . Not my first destabilised government, not my first incited coup. This is my first time where it looks like decent people might take over for a while, and that feels good. You saying it couldn't be done made me want to do it more... but once I heard there was slavery here, I was never going to just sit back and ignore it."

Qui-Gon sighed, nodding slowly. "You did the right thing, and I'm sorry I doubted your abilities. Next time, let's work together on it, instead?"

Barnes smirked, still not fully showing positive emotion in it. "You've got yourself a deal."

---

The first sun had just set, when the group began to return to the ship. Padmé took R2-D2 and C-3PO on a speeder, along with some supplies that they had been gifted by the newly freed people of Tatooine, ahead of the rest of the group.

Qui-Gon and Shmi walked side by side, followed fairly closely by Bucky and Anakin. "It's a shame I had to miss the podraces," Anakin was saying. "But since the slaves are free and the Hutts who organised the whole holiday are gone, I guess they probably won't happen now, anyway, right?"

"Maybe now Boonta Eve will come to mean freedom and prosperity," Bucky said, not entirely sure how optimistic he should be. He hoped it went as well as it looked like it would, but he had seen so-called happy endings to conflict devolve into more of the same, horrifyingly quickly, before.

"Yeah, that'd be wizard!" Anakin cheered brightly.

As they reached the ship, Qui-Gon paused, glancing out at the desert with an expression of unease.

"Something wrong?" Bucky asked him, as he and Anakin caught up.

"I feel... like I'm missing something," he said quietly.

"Come on, get on the ship already!" Cosmo called from inside, with a bark. "We are  on an urgent planet-saving mission, right?"

"Right," Qui-Gon nodded firmly, and they joined the rest of the crew on the ship.

"The group's getting larger, Master," Obi-Wan said in an amused tone. Qui-Gon rolled his eyes at what must be a private joke, there.

Once they had all settled and the ship had taken off, Qui-Gon was suddenly all business. "Barnes, Cosmo, Shmi, Anakin?" he asked, drawing everyone's attention. "As none of you are citizens of the Republic yet, it is standard practice to perform a basic medical check before bringing you onto a major Republic world like Coruscant. A simple blood sample will suffice."

"This is standard procedure," Panaka confirmed, "Though it's usually performed at the spaceport where you first land in Republic space, it's not unknown to be done en-route, especially as we mean to move quickly once we arrive. Naboo offers our apologies for lack of facilities, upon your arrival," he added to Cosmo and Bucky.

Cosmo let her tongue loll out and tilted her head to show her amusement, while Bucky smiled, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at the weak joke.

Shmi and Anakin didn't hesitate to accept Qui-Gon's request for a blood test. Cosmo looked to Bucky for advice.

"You swear my blood won't end up in some mad scientist's hands?" he asked darkly. Not that he was entirely convinced it would do any mad scientists any good. HYDRA had owned him for decades, and achieved nothing from the many samples they took from him. Still, better safe than sorry.

"I swear," Qui-Gon said with a nod. "I just need a drop, for a quick analysis. I won't even take enough to reuse, anyway."

They all allowed the test in silence, then Qui-Gon announced the results. "One hundred percent human," he said to Bucky. "That's practically unheard of; usually there's a trace of something else in there, even if it is incredibly small. Only five-hundred midichlorian count; I would have expected at least two thousand. Otherwise, you seem perfectly healthy." There was an awkward moment of silence, and Bucky read the 'actually, abnormally  healthy' between the lines easily enough.

Then Qui-Gon turned to Cosmo. "Entirely unknown species, though you do share some genetic traits with Wookiees and Bothans; only six percent, but it's something. Six thousand midichlorian; you're Force-sensitive. I can't tell what normal levels would be for your race, but nothing here looks alarming, and you seem healthy enough from observation. No recognisable infections of any kind."

Shmi, next. "Ninety-six percent human, three thousand midichlorian. You probably have a heightened sense of awareness and understanding, but you wouldn't be trainable by the Jedi, even if we had found you younger. No health problems that a change of diet and skincare won't fix."

And finally, Anakin. "Also ninety-six percent human, and... what? Uh, well... it seems you have a very high midichlorian count, which bodes well for your prospective future as a Jedi."

Bucky leaned over and looked at the device in Qui-Gon's hand. "Did you actually break the machine?" he asked dubiously. "I've broken scanners before, too. It's a badge of honour."

Cosmo giggled, a quiet huff of a bark accompanying the artificial vocalisation, and Anakin laughed as well.

"Yes, well. No serious health concerns; minor malnutrition, an easy fix." Qui-Gon tried to recover his composure, and Bucky just grinned too-brightly at him.

Bucky pulled a ration bar out of his coat, and handed it over to Anakin. "That means eat until they stop claiming you have malnutrition," he informed the boy, with a grin.

Anakin took the offering, and examined it to try to figure out what it was, before eating it.

The others dispersed gradually. The Jedi said they were going off to meditate. Shmi wanted to introduce herself to Queen Amidala, and Panaka escorted her. Cosmo, Bucky and Anakin were the only ones left after a matter of minutes.

"So I get what my part was," Anakin said, "But how did you manage the rest of your plan?"

"I found the bounty board, and saw that Jabba and Gardulla were gunning for each other... but first I needed more information and resources. I took two smaller bounties; one to bring back a missing slave and the other to recover goods stolen by Raiders. Turned out the Raiders had the girl, too. I took out the camp-"

"How?!" Anakin asked, awed. Like it was a big deal. Bucky supposed it probably was, for an unenhanced human.

"I took them by surprise, during the sandstorm. They weren't expecting anyone to be out in it, and I can see why. I got a few minor abrasions, from the sand, but I've fought through worse in the past, and I heal really fast."

"You chose  to go out in that sandstorm?!" Cosmo asked, shocked. "You are crazier than I thought, and I already know your abilities by reputation."

Bucky held up his right hand, for her and Anakin to see. "All healed already, see?" he said, grinning at their shock. "Left hand's worse, now, to be honest. Got sand in a few of the joints." He held up the artificial hand for them to see, as well.

"Anyway," he continued after a moment. "I found seven prisoners in the camp; the slave from the bounty, two other slaves, three traders, and a slave-owner. We talked about how the slavers were maintaining control, and I figured out that there was a master code, intended to kill everyone in case of revolt, but it was possible to turn that around and deactivate all the detonators instead."

Now the others were focused on him with rapt attention.

"I persuaded all seven of them to help with my plans; I had to bribe the slaver and one of the traders, but they all got on board with surprisingly little complaint. Turns out, these average citizens - even the owner - had more of a problem with the Hutts, and would far rather be a free democracy than under the Cartel's control."

"Bet they'd also really prefer not to get on the bad side of the crazy person who went out into a sandstorm at night and survived to slaughter a whole camp of Raiders!" Anakin added.

"I'm sure that helped, yes," Bucky admitted, smiling at the kid. "So the three traders arranged themselves a very vocal disagreement, where the guards around the comm tower would hear and investigate, so you and Kara could slip in the back door and be ready to send the signal."

"I went to Jabba, to accept his bounty on Gardulla. His people gave me a poison that only works on Hutts, so Gardulla's taster would be unaffected when she tested my 'gracious gift'. From the assassination's perspective, this meant she wouldn't suspect the poisoning until it was too late... but on a moral front, one less death is also a good thing. While I was poisoning her, I also accepted Gardulla's bounty on Jabba; she told me about a sniper spot, that at the right time of day could hit him right on his throne, through a high window in the main hall of his palace. Apparently, even droids literally built for assassination had previously failed. Let's just say, I'm a very  good shot."

"Meanwhile, the slave-owner I met at the Raider camp went to Gardulla, to negotiate a purchase. I gave him enough credits to get someone good, too, so he looked legitimate. He got the grand tour, and when Gardulla was poisoned, he slipped off, found the master key, and forwarded its code to me. If he had failed or betrayed us, I could still have gone on a rampage through Jabba's palace until I got his copy, but I'm glad I didn't need to. I waited until both Hutts were dead, then sent the code to you."

"Wizard!" Anakin whispered.

"Like a heist movie," Cosmo declared. When Bucky gave her a surprised look for the reference, she made the doggy equivalent of a shrug. "Quill told us all about them, while planning a real heist, one time."

"In the square, afterwards, the first two former-slaves to speak up after Kara suggested applying to join the Republic were from the Raider camp, too," Bucky added. "People tend to need to be pretty invested in an idea to be the first to speak up and agree to it, but once it seems popular more people usually join in; we wanted to be sure the newly freed people would have protection, and the Republic were the only group I knew - or that any of the others could think of - likely to offer it. We had a little rehearsal of the speech, at the camp, and everything."

Anakin grinned brightly. "You really thought of everything!"

Bucky nodded slowly, lowering his head. "Yeah, including the things I can't control, like the odds of someone else swooping in and taking over before the Republic, or a disagreement between the former slaves and their former owners sabotaging the peace... there's a lot of ways this could fall through and go wrong, but I've given them their best chance, and that's all I can really do."

"You did good today," Cosmo said, clearly stopping herself at the last moment from calling him солдат again.

"Yeah, you did your best, and it was better than most anyone else has ever tried," Anakin agreed.

---

Chapter Text

---

"Is there anywhere to bathe on this ship?" Bucky asked one of the crew, as they were assigning him a bunk for the 'night cycle'. He had sand everywhere , even in the joints of his left arm, and he was pretty sure he stank of sweat by now. Most of Tatooine had that unwashed smell, though - it just came with the lack of water - so until returning to the ship he had been able to tune it out. Now, however, he was acutely aware that most of the people on board were properly clean, and he was not.

Cosmo smelled better than him, right now. In fact, he was fairly sure someone had given her some sort of perfume, because she actually smelled pleasant, not just of clean dog. Sense of smell was one of those things that you could  get cranked up to eleven by superpowers, and he was really grateful to have missed out on that one, between the way Steve had talked about it, and the conditions he'd had to exist in under HYDRA's control.

"We just have the one sonic shower, and I'm afraid Her Highness is currently using it. You can have it when she's done, though."

"Real sonic showers?!" Anakin asked, appearing as if by teleportation, at Bucky's side. "We only ever get a sand-scrub to wash on Tatooine. Some of the rich traders had sonics, but I've never seen one before."

Bucky blinked. Of course, a desert culture wouldn't even think about water for bathing, but if sonic bathing was a thing now, why would it not be more available on Tatooine of all places, where water was so scarce? It even made the most sense to use a sonic shower in space, as carrying any great amount of water would affect other aspects of the ship such as cargo or fuel capacity.

"You can go before me, then," Bucky offered to Anakin, before glancing to the crew member. "Can someone let us know when shower's free, though?"

"Of course, sir," he answered with a nod.

So instead of dirtying his assigned bunk, he made his way to the area of the ship designated as a dining space. He found Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan sat there, legs crossed, eyes closed, but as soon as he entered they both looked up at him.

Well, they looked at Anakin first, as he likely made the most noise, then they saw Bucky as well.

"Ah, still awake?" Obi-Wan asked them both.

"Waiting for the sonic shower," Bucky told them. "You should try it, too," he added to Qui-Gon, who had been out in the desert just as long as the rest of them.

Qui-Gon smirked at him, and with a wave of his hand his robes rippled and a small pile of sand fell out of them onto the floor. "I'm in no rush."

"Okay, what was that?" Bucky asked.

"The Force," Obi-Wan answered. "A frivolous use of it, but given the circumstances..."

"What can you tell me about the Jedi and the Force? It seemed like you were able to influence people's minds on Naboo."

"The Jedi mind trick is a simple nudge; it cannot compel someone to go against their own welfare, and we only use it when absolutely necessary," Qui-Gon answered.

Bucky frowned. While he would quietly endorse the abrupt end of Jar Jar's panic attack in a confined submersible, when the pilot had really needed to concentrate... the manner in which it was done was what really disturbed him. "You had no idea if the Gungan leader was going to help us or not, you just went ahead and made sure he would."

"He specifically said he wouldn't help-" Obi-Wan began.

"But he did  want rid of us," Bucky pointed out.

"And the odds of that leading to a favourable outcome?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Most of our past encounters like that have ended up with 'get rid of them' translating rather directly to 'kill them'," Obi-Wan agreed.

"But you didn't wait to find out," Bucky pointed out sharply.

"Watto wasn't doing well with money," Anakin piped up. "And you tried to make him take Republic credits for a huge  job, when nobody uses those on Tatooine. It would have ruined him. I mean, I get it, you were in trouble and needed the parts... but Watto wasn't your enemy."

Bucky couldn't help but frown at the former-slave for standing up for his former-master like that. He understood that it was a true enough statement, but it still felt uncomfortable to him just how completely and openly lacking Anakin seemed to be in any kind of animosity for the being who had owned him .

"And we did find a better way, for which we are grateful," Obi-Wan pointed out. "We only use it in dire circumstances, and perhaps we could rethink how quickly we resort to it," he added, giving Qui-Gon a pointed look. "It is generally preferable to violence, but you do have a valid point."

Bucky scowled at the two of them. " Never  use it on me," he growled coldly. "I won't forgive it, under any  circumstances."

The two Jedi exchanged a wary look, but then both nodded in agreement to his demand.

Bucky let that hang in the air for a moment, before asking, "So what else can Jedi do?"

"We have the ability to anticipate things before they happen; a certain limited level of precognition, mostly in regards to imminent threats, or the occasional moment of clarity that one path before us would be better than another," Qui-Gon explained. "In extremely rare circumstances, a Jedi may have a full-blown vision of a future event, but those are rarely valuable prophecy, and easily misinterpreted. We also have the ability to remotely manipulate objects-"

"Telekinesis," Bucky clarified.

"Yes, that is one less common term for it," Qui-Gon nodded. "Our reflexes - bolstered by that precognitive ability - are far better than standard for our species... and Jedi can come from any species. We're also capable of temporarily enhancing our physical and other abilities, using the Force."

"And this 'Force' thing?" Bucky asked.

"It is the energy that flows through all things in the universe," Qui-Gon explained. "It connects us all, and those with a higher midichlorian count tend to be more able to feel the currents of it, reach out and manipulate it. It is what grants us our abilities."

Bucky bit his lip to stop himself from commenting there, because that sure sounded like magic, as the Masters of the Mystic Arts knew it, just with a new name. Except, so he had been told, that  didn't take any innate affinity to use. It was, apparently, several orders of magnitude more difficult to learn for those lacking said affinity, but not impossible. Ned had tried to teach him, but he hadn't picked it up at all.

Still, the suggestion had been clear that even he ought to have been able to do it eventually, if he had kept at it... but he wasn't about to argue with the Jedi, just yet.

"How do midi- midi-clori- how do they work?" Anakin asked.

"Midichlorians," Obi-Wan enunciated clearly.

"We're not sure, to be honest," Qui-Gon answered. "They are harmless microorganisms, found in the cells of all living things, and in higher concentrations within Force-sensitive beings."

"The popular belief is that they form a symbiotic link that opens us up to the Force," Obi-Wan added. "Others have posited that they simply thrive best in bodies already attuned to the Force." Qui-Gon shot a mildly annoyed look at Obi-Wan, in a way that said quite clearly he subscribed to the first theory and why bother adding confusion to the matter? Obi-Wan pretended to blandly ignore him as he continued. "Attempts to pass Force-sensitivity through blood transfusions have had mixed results, proving neither hypothesis conclusively."

The crew member from earlier returned, just then. "Her Highness is finished with the shower," he announced.

Anakin positively leapt from his seat, shouting, "Yippee!" and raced off.

The crew member followed him out of the room, and there was a tense silence for a moment. "Apparently, even sonic showers were rare on Tatooine?" Bucky spoke up eventually.

"Well that seems counter-intuitive," Obi-Wan replied, frowning at the thought.

"You guys know about the handmaiden, right?" Bucky asked, glancing towards the door that led off in the general direction of the shower. There wasn't much reason for the Queen to take priority bathing, unless she had been out in the desert. She - or at least one of her advisors - would have known to expect grimy, sweaty, sandy people traipsing back onto her ship wanting a shower, and if she had actually been on the ship and wanted to bathe for herself, she could have done it while they'd been out.

"It seems a likely explanation," Qui-Gon said with a nod.

"It was a dangerous risk," Obi-Wan agreed.

"It was her choice," Qui-Gon pointed out. "And she was rather vocal about her disapproval of the gambling plan."

"Oh, did you use the 'you're not the person in charge, you don't get to argue' line again?" Obi-Wan asked, grinning. "After Pantora, I'm surprised you dared."

"Ah, the joys of undercover operations," Qui-Gon said with a smile.

Bucky couldn't help but laugh along.

---

By the time they reached Coruscant, even Qui-Gon had gotten around to bathing. Thankfully.

Obi-Wan was grateful not to have had to endure the desert itself for multiple reasons, but the smell had risen high on the list after the others had returned. Not that he would ever admit that out loud to those who'd had the misfortune of generating said smell. It wasn't as if they had a choice, he knew.

Still, using the Force to shake loose sand off was no comparison for a good sonic to clean oneself properly. Everyone eventually got a turn to bathe, during the cycle-long flight to the capital, not only those who had desperately needed it.

Obi-Wan quietly wondered how the desert natives would react to rain. His datapad said that the artificial weather on Coruscant was scheduled to include light rain in the political and Jedi sectors, tomorrow morning.

"Coruscant," the pilot narrated, as Anakin hovered over his shoulder. Barnes and Cosmo were nearby, too, also listening. "The entire planet is one big city."

"Legends beyond our recorded history speculate that it was one of the earliest human colony worlds," Qui-Gon added, watching Barnes and Cosmo closely for a reaction.

And Barnes visibly flinched; a catch of the breath and a shift of his posture clearly showing that that hurt  him to hear. Because Coruscant was not a small planet, and it had already been well built up at the beginning of recorded history.

Cosmo took a step closer to Barnes, at his right side, nudging his thigh with her shoulder... and his hand moved down to gently rub at her ear. She leaned into the touch, Force-broadcasting that she enjoyed it, yet she was also quite evidently acutely aware that it was just as comforting to Barnes as it was to her.

"Over five thousand levels deep, in some places," Qui-Gon pushed again, and Obi-Wan wanted to tell him to stop, because it was clearly cruel to drive the point further at this stage.

Qui-Gon had obviously made the same speculation at Barnes' blood result as Obi-Wan had - that to have 100% human DNA, he might possibly be from the long-lost human homeworld... but here, now, was the hard evidence, in the way he reacted to this new information.

'You can shut it, right now!'  Cosmo's voice echoed in their minds, and as she glanced their way there was a slight baring of her teeth and raising of the fur around her collar, to accompany the sharp command.

Qui-Gon blinked, and looked away.

---

One of the Queen's guards was kind enough to loan Bucky some civilian clothes, so he wouldn't look too much like a dangerous potential-criminal around the politicians, and he promised to return them as soon as he got the opportunity to acquire his own. He followed along as the Jedi and the royal entourage left the ship, to greet the big-shot politicians.

The Jedi led the way, and bowed to the Chancellor and Senator, before allowing the Queen to step past them and greet the two men.

"It is a great gift to see you alive, Your Majesty," Senator Palpatine greeted her. "With the communications breakdown, we've been very concerned. I'm anxious to hear your report on the situation." He turned to the man beside him. "May I present Supreme Chancellor Valorum."

"Welcome Your Highness. It is an honour to finally meet you in person."

Bucky frowned slightly at the difference in terminology. He had spent a lot of time with Shuri, and been sure to learn the distinctions. On Earth, 'Majesty' was only used for the true monarch, and in some cases their consort... while 'Highness' was for princes or princesses. From what he could tell, Asgard had been the same. And yet, the royal guard and the Chancellor addressed her as 'Your Highness'... but the Senator from her own planet was calling her 'Your Majesty'?

Something felt off, and he wasn't at all sure why.

She didn't bat an eye, either to demur the excessive title of 'Majesty' or take insult at the lower title of 'Highness'... so either both were somehow right, or she was just too focused on her mission to care. She just kept up the conversation - which had fallen to small talk of how concerned everyone was without actually making progress on resolving the reason for concern - as they walked away from the ship.

Bucky and Cosmo stood back with Shmi and Anakin, close to the two Jedi. Once the Queen and Senator had left, along with her guards, the royal advisor, and all those handmaidens, the Chancellor turned to see the rest of them there. This was the moment Shmi took to step forward and introduce herself.

"Greetings, Supreme Chancellor," she spoke formally. "I am Shmi Skywalker, appointed interim spokesperson for the newly freed people of Tatooine. While I will of course defer my petition until Queen Amidala's more urgent issue has been attended to, I am here to formally request, on behalf of my planet and people, membership in the Galactic Republic."

Bucky got the feeling that speech was rehearsed, perhaps even coached and practised with the Queen or one of her attendants. While Shmi had taken her turn with the sonic shower, like everyone else (and Bucky had learned during his own turn that it was designed to wash both people and their clothes, though ideally separately), she still wore the same dress that she had on Tatooine. The virtual-rags she had worn as a slave.

Bucky wasn't sure if she simply had no other option, or if it was a calculated choice to force the politicians to acknowledge what they had sat back and failed to prevent on her world. He thought, if she had wanted to, she could probably have borrowed one of the Queen's many dresses... so he would guess that it was a choice.

The Chancellor blinked, clearly shocked, though he hid it well. "Tatooine? I- I had not heard news of any recent changes?"

"We are bringing it to you now," Shmi said firmly. "Just under one standard cycle ago, all slaves on Tatooine were released from their bonds, the Hutt claim on the planet firmly countered, and a new governing body is being formed as we speak."

"Very well, Ma'am," the Chancellor nodded. "We will arrange your stay in the senatorial district, until matters on Naboo are settled, at which point you may make your petition to the Senate." He beckoned over an aide who quickly proceeded to guide Shmi and Anakin away after the other politicians.

"We must report to the Jedi Council at our earliest convenience," Qui-Gon told the Chancellor, who nodded, before looking at Bucky and Cosmo. "Ah, yes. These two are refugees. They are welcome to stay with the Jedi until accommodations can be made for citizenship."

"You know the procedures, of course," the Chancellor nodded. "I shall return to the Senate, myself. Good day to you all," and with a curt yet polite nod, he left.

"Refugees, casual as that, and no issues?" Cosmo asked dubiously, as soon as the Chancellor was out of earshot.

Obi-Wan smiled weakly at her. "The Jedi are somewhat infamous for, uh, picking up strays," he answered. "So long as we don't bring in whole planets too often, we're usually left to sort it out ourselves."

"Strays," Cosmo almost giggled. "It is almost as if there is no language barrier."

Then they reached the edge of the platform, approaching another vehicle. "Finally, a flying car," Bucky said with a laugh that was in fact genuine in spite of how long it took him to find one. He glanced over the railing. "Tell me I'm not the only one who wants to drop something down there just to see if you can hear it land?"

"I did that as a Padawan," Qui-Gon said with a fond smile.

"I think everyone does at some point," Obi-Wan nodded in agreement.

"Five thousand levels," Bucky whispered to himself, as he settled in the vehicle. Its roof pulled forward from behind, like a convertible, except it was solid metal.

"Is it bad that I have known more than one person who would consider the jump?" Cosmo asked.

"Yes, that's bad," Bucky answered with a shake of his head. "I only knew one." Steve would probably find a way to survive it, too. He'd jumped out of planes from unreasonable heights, all the time.

As he worked to drag his mind back out of the past, he found himself staring at the orderly lanes of traffic in the sky, as the small vehicle flew off to join one of them. The towers that he could see around him were all very elegant and beautiful, but looking down showed that it didn't take far for the whole space to be taken up by blocks of densely packed buildings.

He would guess no more than two or three hundred stories, before you would lose sight of the sky. What must those lower levels be like? How far down was it even habitable? How sturdy was the foundation? What must be lost to history down there, crumbling from uncounted age, and preparing to destabilise all that was built upon it?

He shivered at the thought, and decided he really didn't like this planet all that much.

Still, it seemed to be the heart of the Republic, the place where both the politicians and the Jedi held all their central operations. He would just have to deal with it for the time being.

"This world cannot have any active tectonics," Cosmo was pondering, as she peered outside. "This would not have been possible to build if it had. Probably never had real oceans either."

"You're right about the tectonics, but we don't know well enough to be sure about the oceans," Qui-Gon answered her.

"How far down is even habitable?" Bucky voiced one of his own questions.

"It gets dangerous below level five hundred, and below one hundred is outright toxic," Obi-Wan answered. "Very sparsely populated below one thousand," he added.

"I question the structural integrity," Bucky grumbled darkly.

There was dead silence at that, because they had to know he was right... but they likely also needed very much not to think about it, in order to live here. That awkward silence reigned until they reached a massive square building with spires rising from the four corners and a larger tower in the centre.

"The Jedi Temple," Obi-Wan told them, with a tone of affection that spoke of home.

"So you are a religious order?" Cosmo asked, sounding nothing but innocently curious.

"Ah, sort of," Qui-Gon answered. "There are certainly a lot of spiritual and dogmatic elements to our philosophy, but we don't have a particular god behind it. Personally, I don't adhere all that much to certain elements of the dogma, either."

"Master..." Obi-Wan said in an exasperated tone.

"Rules for rules' sake are impractical, Padawan," Qui-Gon chided, smirking at him. "When rules serve good purpose, then they are of value, but otherwise... made to be at the very least bent."

"Says the man who set my bedtime in stone, and wouldn't let me do anything else until I finished my meditations."

"I was attempting to instil a good work ethic. It might have worked too well, given how rigidly you adhere to the Council's word over mine, on occasion."

Bucky and Cosmo exchanged a look of amusement at the way the two spoke. It came across so clearly like a father-son dynamic.

When they landed, in a large bay cut out into the side of the Jedi Temple, they were escorted up a grand flight of stairs and into an atrium bigger than any Bucky had seen. From one side, a young man, perhaps Obi-Wan's age, raced up to meet them. He went straight to Obi-Wan, and the two embraced like brothers... Obi-Wan clearly the less enthusiastic of the two about public displays of affection, by a wide margin.

"Hey, Obi! I heard you got into some trouble on Naboo?" the newcomer declared.

"You could say that," Obi-Wan agreed. "But I'm fairly sure it would be an understatement."

"Padawan Muln," Qui-Gon said curtly. "If you have the free time, I'm sure our guests could use your assistance, while we debrief the Council on our latest mission. If you must gossip, I imagine Obi-Wan will oblige you, when we are done."

Muln shrugged. "I can wait," he agreed, turning to face Bucky and Cosmo. "Guests, huh? Nice to meet you, I'm Garen Muln."

"James Barnes," Bucky answered with a nod.

"And I am Cosmo."

"Wow, awesome," Muln grinned, as he knelt down to face Cosmo directly. "Is that a Force-vocoder you're using?" he asked with the enthusiasm of Shuri or Stark upon seeing shiny new tech.

"Garen," Obi-Wan chided gently. "They're refugees, and Cosmo's a six-k. I'll catch up to you later, alright?"

'Is it bad that I wish my midichlorian count had been nine thousand, just for the jokes?'  Cosmo asked in Bucky's mind.

9K. K9. Yeah, cute. Bucky chuckled.

Qui-Gon was already leading Obi-Wan away, while Garen straightened up and glanced at the two of them thoughtfully. "Refugees, huh? Okay, follow me. Sorry, this will be a bit boring, but you've got to build the foundation before the house."

---

"So," Garen said as he examined the datachip Obi had passed him. "You're a hundred-percent human, and you're a six-k unknown species. Intake's gonna love  this," he said with gleeful sarcasm. Processing refugees was usually pretty basic stuff, but this pair sure were different .

He led the way down to the quartermaster, to get them rooms and stuff first. He picked the civilian rooms nearest his own and Obi-Wan's for them, and told them to pick out necessities for at least a ten-day stay.

"What, we just take whatever we want?" Bucky asked dubiously.

"Well, we discourage excess, and ask that you try not to break anything reusable... but essentially, yes," Garen answered. "Everything down here in the quartermasters' storage is for use by anyone residing in the Temple. When you leave, it'll be brought back down here, cleaned and stored for the next guest or Jedi who needs it."

"It is how communism was always supposed  to work," Cosmo declared brightly, and Garen found himself blinking when objects began levitating. James shrugged, and began to pick up a few smaller things for himself, while the levitating items went to hover neatly near Cosmo, so he assumed she was doing it, but wow. Where did she learn that, if not from the Jedi?

"Just set your selections over here, they'll be sent up for you," he explained, gesturing to one of the moving palettes. "Your rooms have a basic kitchen, plumbing, and beds provided, but you'll need to get crockery, sheets, toiletries, and other furniture from here."

He blinked again when the human man picked up a big cushy armchair that looked way too heavy, like it was nothing, to add to his palette.

"What about food?" Cosmo asked.

"There's a cafeteria real near your quarters," Garen answered, with a nod. "But if you want stuff for your own rooms, it's just through there." He indicted the doorway to the side, through which he frequently travelled to get perhaps too many sweetcakes.

Cosmo trotted off in that direction, and came back with a case of packaged pre-cooked meats, and a pair of plastic bowls; one red one blue. "These look good," she said brightly.

"Do you have caffeine?" James asked.

"Yeah, loads of different kinds," Garen led him through to the food storage room, and showed him the massive wall of options. Garen himself preferred the super-strong caf, but he knew Obi and Qui-Gon would argue for weeks over which obscure tea was just perfection.

James seemed to be on Garen's side, here, picking a pack of super-caf and a large mug. Garen nodded in approval at that.

"Alright," Garen declared, when it looked like they were done. "This will all be up in your rooms, by the time I show you where they are. Step two, now: boring paperwork. Sorry."

He led them up to the offices where this would need to get done. There was always some corpsman or other working there, as liaison to the official government people who processed this stuff.

Garen nodded to the corpsman as they entered the room. "Sorry, I come bearing official paperwork. I promise, I hate it too."

The corpsman laughed. "Hate is the path to the Dark Side, Padawan," he joked, clearly impersonating one of the Masters... though it really could be any of them, because they all said that.

"Right, I know, I know. It's a turn of phrase, sheesh," Garen dismissed with a roll of his eyes.

The paperwork took about half an hour, and came with a few surprises.

They were from the same planet. No, they couldn't point to it on a map. It's called Earth... like, ground, or dirt; Earth. Cosmo insisted her home be listed as 'Moscow, Russia, Earth', even though no one knew where this 'Earth' even was, nevermind the district or city.

The corpsman gave him a funny look at the '100% human' entry for James.

"Just list him as ninety-eight human, two unknown," Garen waved dismissively. "The bureaucrats will think it's a typing error otherwise."

"Are we sure it isn't  an error?" the corpsman asked.

"Master Jinn did the test, I trust it's good," Garen said, shaking his head.

"What's wrong with one-hundred-percent human?" James asked.

"It's just been so long since humanity's been about the galaxy, y'know... mingling," Garen tried to explain. "History lost our homeworld; it's no surprise there's no pure humans anymore. Except you, apparently. Yeah, there's a few jerks out there who think being a higher percentage is some kind of badge of honour, but, as I've said, they're jerks. Civilised people only think about our percentage from a medical perspective... so for example, my odd fourteen percent makes me a bit more physically resilient, especially in the stomach. I can eat stuff most humans can't before getting sick, but that's about it. Medics know not to break out the poisoning kit too early; valuable information for them, I can tell you. Only two percent of my non-human is even identifiable, anyway, and that's Zabrak. But, no horns, so..." He patted his head to emphasise the lack of horns, then shrugged. "You're only called a hybrid if you've got a known non-human parent or grandparent, or, like, visible non-human features."

Once the paperwork was finally sorted, they made their way to the cafeteria. "Food, we need food," he declared, leading the way. "I want to eat my paperwork-related-pain away."

"It's like Thor and Stark had a kid," James told Cosmo quietly, with a very faint smirk of amusement.

"I know neither of those two people," she replied.

"Thor was built like, well, that... and Stark was a technology-obsessed chatterbox with black hair, so..."

"Compliments accepted," Garen told him with a grin, posing a little and running a hand through his hair as he said it.

"And they both preened like that, too," James informed him, the smile becoming a touch more real, but also showing pain as well. And suddenly Garen realised he was talking so fondly... in the past tense. Dead attachments. That was always sad... and yet, the man was trying to find the positives where he could. And doing better at it than some Jedi, too.

"Okay, food!" Garen declared, turning back to the offerings at the counter.

And apparently neither of these two had any idea what anything  was. They could guess the gist: meats, starches, greens... but they had no clue beyond it. Garen had to guide them through the options, warning James off of a few things that were only there for the non-humans.

The man ended up getting a little bit of everything safe for humans to try. It was a very large plate of food, really.

Cosmo's diet seemed to be mostly meat, and she showed a clear preference for smaller, bite-sized cuts - he had noticed that her selection to bring to her quarters had been diced, as well - but she carefully chose a few other items on the side, after intensive questioning on their nutritional content.

"Many things safe for humans are not for dogs," she explained seriously. "I take my dietary requirements very seriously. I bit Quill when he tried to offer me chocolate."

They made their way to an empty table, and sat to eat. James took the seat opposite Garen, and Cosmo sat to James' right. Cosmo promptly began to use the Force to levitate pieces of food off her plate, one at a time, into range for her to eat without sticking her face into said food.

Was that 'frivolous use of the Force', or just good table manners? Garen wouldn't know; he didn't really do good table manners all that well.

Before Garen could even take a bite, his friend Bant was there at Garen's left side, and then their other close friend Reeft appeared soon after to his right. The two refugees eyed the new pair of Padawans carefully, Cosmo with a friendly sort of eagerness, but James was more obviously wary, like he just plain couldn't trust new people right away.

"I heard you saw Obi on his way in?" Reeft asked intently.

"Yeah, reporting to the Council. If he's lucky, he'll make it in time for dessert," Garen replied.

"And you brought friends?" Bant asked, looking at James and Cosmo. "I'm Bant Eerin," she introduced herself.

"Reeft," their friend added with a curt nod.

"James Barnes."

"Cosmo."

"We're all agemates with Obi-Wan," Garen explained, gesturing to his friends. "Grew up together in the creche, then in the same clan as kids."

"How's that work?" James asked, dubiously.

"Jedi are recruited as young as possible," Bant explained. "So being in the creche together, we've known each other as long as we can remember. Clans are basically just learning groups, with the same children and teacher together, for a sense of consistency."

"The Jedi recruit at infancy?" James asked, like this sounded horrible to him.

"It's easiest to teach an unbiased mind," Reeft explained. "Learning to use the Force is a great gift and honour. Our parents knew this, and we are all happy for the opportunity."

"What if you decided you didn't want to be Jedi?" James asked.

"Well then we can leave, as soon as we're of age. It's not much different from any other school system, until then," Bant shrugged. "Except we learn to use the Force as well, and we're discouraged from seeing our parents, so we can focus on our connection to the Force instead."

"Let's be honest, some rich people still discourage their children from contacting them from school," Reeft added coldly. "For much less kind reasons."

James frowned, but clearly decided to hold back whatever misgivings he had about that. Garen decided the best thing to do was to change the subject.

The three Padawans chatted about their classes, and let the guests eat without either pushing them out or requiring them to join in. It was clear they were listening, but all the three of them really talked about was the universal woe of homework.

Finally, the others dispersed, and Obi-Wan had yet to reappear, so Garen escorted the guests back to their suite - he'd picked one with two bedrooms for them, as he didn't want to assume anything about their relationship; with this level of divergent species, it was usually super-unlikely, anyway. "There's a map of the relevant touristy sights in the Temple, usually left on the kitchenette counter for guests," he explained as they arrived. He poked his head inside. "Yep, I see it." He pointed. "Over there. The Room of a Thousand Fountains is particularly popular, from what I hear. You've also got a standard holonet terminal over there." He pointed again. "Anything you need, press the top button on the comm by the door, and someone should be available to help, at any hour."

"Thanks," James said with a curt nod.

"Look, about the whole Jedi recruitment age thing," Garen said, in what he hoped was a conciliatory tone. "I get it, if you're from a culture that places a high value on childhood naivety, or close family ties, it can look a bit, uh... monstrous, I guess. But it really is about the opportunity to learn things before you have to unlearn other things, y'know? It's a different way of thinking, placing our values more in higher quality education... and we do have a really close-knit sort of community within our own. Jedi children are very well cared for, and get access to a lot of the best things the Republic can offer."

Cosmo seemed amused, as she spoke with a slight nod of her head. "We do get it, we are just not used to it... and yes, our world's culture values family highly. I notice you used the word naivety instead of innocence, because there is a difference, yes?"

"Yeah," Garen nodded. "It's one thing to protect children from danger and let them play and be happy... and another to 'protect' them from the knowledge they'll need to grow up into functioning adults. I've heard that a fair few cultures, or individuals, conflate the two... but we are both very protective of our young, and highly value that knowledge."

---

Chapter Text

---

Qui-Gon led the way up to the Council Chamber, Obi-Wan trailing tentatively behind him. He never did enjoy Council debriefings; it always felt like the Council was watching and judging him, trying to pick apart all of his flaws. The fact that Qui-Gon took the brunt of these meetings was really their only saving grace.

"Greetings, Master Jinn. Padawan Kenobi," Master Yoda began. "News from Naboo, you have for us?"

Qui-Gon nodded, and made a half-bow as he began to explain. "The Trade Federation refused to participate in negotiations."

He went through the course of events, step by step, starting with the discovery of their two refugees. Obi-Wan was never sure if he should feel a touch smug to see ripples of shock across the Council, when they happened, or if it boded ill that things reached such extremes. His Master's reports almost invariably caused this reaction at least once, but today he got it multiple times.

The existence of these refugees.

The Trade Federation's attempted murder of two Jedi sent by the Chancellor himself.

The slave revolution on Tatooine got a really big reaction.

The little detail that this abnormally strong and cunning individual was genetically pure human really set a ripple going around... and word of Barnes' reaction to Qui-Gon's comments about Coruscant - all-but confirming the theory that he could be from the human homeworld - caused outright shock.

Cosmo's Force-affinity wasn't a big surprise, but a matter that sent thoughts of contention through the more conservative Masters. They whispered about whether they should train her or try to contain her? She was already skilled enough to be dangerous, but did not act in a hostile manner, so how to react?

And finally, Anakin's midichlorian count was revealed, along with Qui-Gon blurting out the fact that he thought the boy might be the Chosen One.

Qui-Gon hadn't mentioned that thought to him, and Obi-Wan himself had been a bit more focused on the immediate mission and the possibility that Barnes was from the human homeworld, so Anakin being an oddity as well hadn't really sunk in yet.

But he really wanted to cover his face with his palm at the way Qui-Gon was talking about the prophecy, now. Even if it was true, why lay that responsibility before a child? Nevermind that they aren't yet certain.

"I request the boy be tested, Masters," Qui-Gon insisted.

"Oh, trained as a Jedi you request for him, hmm?" Master Yoda asked.

"Finding him was the will of the Force, I have no doubt of that." Qui-Gon answered simply.

"And this refugee, Cosmo?" Master Adi Gallia asked. "Should we not test and offer to train her, as well? If she already has the skill, she would be in sore need of our philosophical teachings, regardless of age."

Obi-Wan stared at her in surprise as he realised that she was actually taking Qui-Gon's side. By advocating that age would be less relevant for one potential recruit, it would push to reduce the relevance for the other as well.

"Hmm," Master Windu scowled thoughtfully. "I have questions for Mr Barnes, as well. I suggest you bring all three of them before us, at your earliest convenience."

---

Bucky had just settled in to the temporary accommodations, and was trying to figure out how the holonet worked (holograms and internet, he was really hoping), when he heard a chime from the direction of the door.

Cosmo raced over to the door with a series of loud barks... before bypassing her baser instincts and using her voice to call out, "Come in!"

"Apologies for the interruption," Obi-Wan said by way of greeting. "But the Jedi Council would like to speak to both of you."

Bucky quickly stood and followed the Jedi, Cosmo moving to walk at his heel. It was a bit of a trek, but they were brought to the centre of the temple, and up an elevator to the very top.

Obi-Wan led them into a round chamber with a hell of a good view over the city, and a dozen beings in cushy chairs, gathered in a circle around the edge of the room. Qui-Gon stood in the centre of the circle, waiting for them.

"Anakin is with his mother in the senatorial district, but we can send for him in the morning," Obi-Wan said, gesturing for Bucky and Cosmo to join Qui-Gon in the focus of everyone's attention.

When Bucky stepped forward, a human across the room spoke up. "Greetings, Mr Barnes. I am Jedi Master Mace Windu," he introduced politely enough if a bit stern. "Master Jinn here seems to be under the impression that you hail from the long lost human homeworld."

Bucky blinked. Well, the cat was out of the bag, so sure. "Yes," he said simply. These Jedi were good at hiding their emotions, but still he caught a few hints that they were outright shocked. "Before I was taken to Knowhere, people on my planet had solid archaeological evidence of humanity having evolved on our world." He included Cosmo with a slight gesture. "I'm not a specialist in the subject, but it was common knowledge. We hadn't developed the technology for interstellar travel yet, but we had been visited a few times by aliens."

"You mentioned a galactic threat, when you spoke to Master Jinn?" another Council member asked. She looked mostly human, but he wasn't really sure if that was an ornamental headdress or something else.

"Thanos, yes," he said with a nod. "He was trying to collect a set of powerful artefacts, one of which was on our world. He sent an army to get it. It gets more complicated from there, and I only played a role in the last two battles against him. We won eventually, but we had help."

"You were a soldier," Windu said softly.

Bucky suppressed a flinch, but then nodded. He could tell that this Jedi didn't mean it the same way that either HYDRA or Cosmo did. "Yes," he said quietly.

"And you applied your skills on Tatooine," Windu persisted.

Bucky smirked faintly at that. "A friend of mine once said, when you see something bad happening, and you have the power to fix it, but don't at least try... maybe the bad things are only still happening because of you." It was a paraphrase, but to be fair he was pretty sure the person who said that to him had been quoting or paraphrasing, themselves.

'Ooo, burn,'  Cosmo whispered in his mind. Sure enough, the Jedi did all seem perfectly uncomfortable with this statement.

"Your methods were not those the Jedi would employ," Windu retorted coldly. A touch too defensive, Bucky thought. "We do not condone murder."

Bucky shrugged. "I mean, they literally asked for it. Each Hutt posted a bounty against the other... and one could apply the philosophy that those who would deny rights to another don't deserve those same rights."

"Oh no, he's going to argue philosophy with the Council," Obi-Wan muttered, shaking his head and stepping back out of the metaphorical line of fire. Qui-Gon, interestingly, shifted slightly closer to his side, as if preparing to be his ally in such a battle.

"Saved many lives, you did," Yoda observed, preempting any such argument. "Far more than you took. Trade lives, the Jedi do not... but understand your intentions, we do."

We don't trade lives. Bucky bit back viciously against the emotion those words conjured.

"Our historians would like to spend time discussing your homeworld with you," another Council member spoke up. A man with a very tall head. "Would you be amenable to that?"

Bucky nodded, taking the out from the more charged conversation. "Yes, I can do that."

Cosmo nodded in agreement, tail wagging slightly as she added, "It seems as though there is a lot your history is missing, and we would be delighted to fill in what we can."

"I would also like to scan you, for whatever translator technology you're using, if you'd permit it," Obi-Wan asked. "It must be highly advanced to pick up our languages so fast."

"If anyone else asked to scan my tech, I'd say no," Bucky admitted. "But for reasons beyond my comprehension, you and Qui-Gon have made a good impression on me, so I'll allow it." He would also really like to know how he was able to understand the local languages.

"If Cosmo would remain, so we can speak to her about her Force affinity?" Windu asked. "You may leave, Mr Barnes. Padawan Kenobi."

Obi-Wan bowed, as he backed towards the door. Bucky was happy enough to escape the situation, and Comso made no complaints about it, either.

Obi-Wan led him to another part of the temple, below the living quarters but above the quartermasters, where he seemed to take some time to find the right scanner.

"Okay, I'm not a healer, but this is just a basic cybernetics scanner. I don't need to be able to act on the readouts to be able to use it. It'll highlight organics and mechanics as separate, and help me determine where the implant is. They're usually in the head, so we'll start there."

Bucky nodded, and sat still as Obi-Wan scanned him. "Huh, there's a lot of superficial scarring around your brain, but no implants."

Bucky said nothing about the scarring. He knew exactly where it came from. His essential organs regenerated fully with the healing the serum granted him, but it was still possible for non-essential areas to scar permanently if the damage was repeated frequently enough in a short enough period of time.

"I didn't think so," he admitted.

His body tended to reject foreign objects. The reason he knew so much about the way he scarred was because HYDRA had needed to redo the surgery to attach the arm many  times, to stop his healing from trying to push out the support structure for it. Once it finally scarred, the arm had stayed. That had been his worst year for surgical torture, though sadly not be a very wide margin.

"Hmm, let's see, maybe the arm?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I'd say that's your best bet, yeah," Bucky agreed.

"Oh... it's made of an alloy of titanium and an unidentified metal; a true element, but not one on our records," Obi-Wan said, thoughtfully. "The joints are alloyed with gold, which looks like it grants you extra flexibility there without any loss of strength... and the dye is an organic compound, blended at smelting, the same way they make black beskar. Fascinating."

"And my translator?" Bucky prodded him to stay on track.

"Yes, sorry. Um, I don't see anything that might be a translator, I'm afraid. This all looks like a very finely-made but still fairly standard style of cybernetic arm replacement. I can't find any- wait- what?"

Bucky turned his head to look as Obi-Wan lowered the scanner and stared at the point where the star used to be on the HYDRA arm. Unmarked now - unbranded - on the Wakandan one. "What?" he asked.

"There's a faint Force-trace here," he said, touching that spot. "Concealed, I think only intended to be found if you know what you're looking for."

"And you're looking for a translator..." Bucky trailed off, frowning. Was it some kind of enchantment?

Obi-Wan pulled the scanner back up, and ran it over that area again. "There's a tiny piece of a different  unidentified metal under here," he said, nodding to the spot in question. "Also gold-alloy, but not the same element as the rest of your arm. It's... not a chip or anything like that, just a small piece of metal with a Force-trace on it."

"Let me see," Bucky said, allowing it to sound a bit like a question while still making it clear that this was his body and he wanted to know about it.

Obi-Wan obligingly handed over the scanner, frozen on an image of the piece of metal. The readout had a scale that translated directly to metric in his mind, showing this piece of metal was only a centimetre in length. A simple, single line, bent to resemble the shape of a boomerang, with sharp squared corners, and a groove running the length of it.

He tilted his head and turned the scanner, in the vain hope that it might make more sense... and somehow it did. When he turned the image so the point faced left... whatever was translating in his mind; it translated this.

'Knowledge is power.'

It also correlated almost directly to the letter K in the alphabet as Bucky knew it.

"It's a rune, I think," he said quietly. "I- I've seen something like this before, but never paid that much attention, to be honest."

"It's from your world?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Uh... not really?" Bucky said with a frown. "I think it's Asagardian. I knew some people, both human and Asgardian, that were able to use magic. I'm guessing it's the same as what you call the Force?"

"A lot of cultures consider the Force to be magic, yes."

"If this is Asgardian... then Allspeak?" he asked, dubiously. "Would they be able to share that through an enchantment? Why would they give it to me?"

"Allspeak?" Obi-Wan asked, with a confused frown.

"A kind of magic the Asgardians had; they could understand any written or spoken language through it. If there's no translator chip like you were expecting, and this is an Asgardian rune... seems the best explanation to me."

"What contact did you have with these Asgardians?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Not much. I worked with one witch, one time, and she is my most likely suspect to have planted this on me. I mean, at the time I was pretty good with languages anyway, but maybe she thought I'd need the help?"

But she had only brought him intel on a surviving HYDRA cell, and offered to help him take them out. The base had been small and the HYDRA agents utterly unprepared for an attack... nevermind an attack from the former Winter Soldier and an Asgardian witch. They hadn't even killed any of them, though he'd been tempted. Just rounded them up, and then called the authorities to lock them up.

Small-time, really.

She had been very professional about the whole thing, but he had a sneaking suspicion she had stolen something from them as well. Honestly, though, the Valkyrie had called her an upstanding citizen and taken responsibility for the honour of her word. He got to thwart HYDRA before they could make an attempt at a real comeback again, and that was the part he had really cared about at the time.

"Hmm, it does seem the best explanation, you're right," Obi-Wan agreed. "Might I ask? What, exactly, is your arm made of?"

"It's called vibranium," Bucky answered simply. "And the rune would probably be made of uru."

---

Anakin had never seen anywhere like this before.

It was all spotlessly clean. The rooms were massive . The walls were all painted; pretty and bold shades of blue and yellow, in clean lines, with softer cream for the bits they didn't want to draw as much attention to... and the bold colours were so glossy . Thick carpet beneath his now-bare feet, in a dusty-blue colour... but it wasn't really dusty, that was just the shade of blue. And it was safe to walk on; no sand or sharp things buried in it. So soft and fluffy, like no fabric he'd ever felt before. And outside the window that took up most of an entire wall, there was rain .

Water, cascading down the windows, just falling from the sky.

It was said that on rare occasions, there was even rain on Tatooine, but not in his memory. His mom said there had been rain the day he was born, and that was the last time it had happened.

Now he was on a planet where rain was normal .

He wanted to go out in it, but his mom had warned him not to wander off. So he stood in the pleasantly cool room - not cold like space - on the soft carpet, dressed in soft new clothes provided by the senatorial staff, his belly full of the most delicious breakfast he had ever had... watching the rain run down the window.

He traced some of the drops with his fingers, along the inside of the glass, as the water danced down the outside.

He had been given his own room, with a giant bed, big enough for six people if they huddled close... all for him. And so soft, he sank down into it when he sat on the edge, nevermind when he got into the middle of it. He hadn't been able to sleep comfortably on that... had ended up dragging the thick blanket down onto the floor, to sleep.

The carpet was softer than he was used to sleeping on, all on its own.

There was a sink in the kitchen, and a shower over a tub in the bathroom, and they had been promised unlimited water to use... but neither of them had been brave enough to take more than the minimum needed to drink, yet.

Anakin thought he might like to try a bath... but he was also a little bit afraid of the idea, as well.

He wasn't sure why. Maybe just the instinct to conserve water. Maybe because a rare but popular punishment for water-thieves on Tatooine had been to be drowned - or sometimes only half-drowned, as a warning - in a shallow bowl of what they stole... and a bathtub could hold so much more water than that.

He knew, in a world where water just fell from the sky, he shouldn't get in trouble for a bath... but he still wasn't used to his freedom, yet. He knew that he was free, but he also didn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Both the helpful young man who had shown them to these rooms, and Ani's mom, had both said he could help himself to anything in the cupboards or cooling chamber, but he was still reluctant to just take the initiative like that.

Building stuff for himself with scrap that Watto had actively thrown away was one thing, but food was something you needed to get permission to take.

Used to need.

He turned and walked over to the kitchen, eyeing the cupboards thoughtfully. Surely a snack bar wouldn't go amiss? He wasn't all that hungry, he had eaten well at breakfast, but... he had also been told he had 'malnutrition', and needed to keep eating to make it go away.

He found the snack bars, and picked out one he didn't recognise the flavour for. It looked like a kind of fruit, drawn on the packaging. He didn't want to get crumbs in the nice carpet, so he wouldn't leave the tiled kitchen, and instead sat at the table and unwrapped it carefully there.

It was good. He would try to remember this flavour.

Just then, his mom returned, followed by Padmé, in her beautiful orange handmaiden dress.

"Ani!" Padmé greeted warmly. "I was hoping to see you again, and your mother invited me to visit."

Anakin smiled brightly, and ran over to her. "It's amazing, here! Have you seen the rain! "

"I imagine it's quite a wonder to someone who's lived in the desert all their life," she said, her words reminding him that she had seen rain plenty, but still gentle and accepting enough to show that she really did appreciate his enthusiasm.

They sat and chatted about how different weather systems worked on different worlds. How there were vast networks of lakes and a large ocean on Naboo, that all connected through the core of the planet. How some planets were covered in nothing but water, and their people would marvel at the expanse of land on Tatooine just the same as he marvelled at the rain.

He wanted to visit all  of these worlds, and see them for himself, just like he'd always planned. And if he joined the Jedi, maybe he could.

Then there was a chime at the door. His mom got up to answer it, and there were Obi-Wan and Bucky. Both smiled as they were invited in and exchanged polite greetings with Anakin's mom.

"Ah, Padmé, it's good to see you again," Obi-Wan greeted with a very Jedi-like half-bow.

"Hey, kid," Bucky greeted Anakin. "I hear the Jedi want to see you this morning."

"Yes, I'm here to fetch you," Obi-Wan admitted. "The Council would like to test your Force-affinity, if you're still interested?"

"Yes, I am!" Anakin cheered.

"Well, we're in no rush," Obi-Wan said. "The Council will be in formal session for another hour, and it's a ten minute speeder ride away."

"How's the politics going?" Bucky asked Padmé. She huffed a little.

"The Queen is deeply concerned," she admitted. "We have been advised that the Senate is unlikely to accept our plea for aid, this afternoon."

"Huh," Bucky leaned back in his seat, with a frown that looked deeply thoughtful. Like he was already strategizing to retake Naboo for her people the way he had freed Tatooine.

"Our Senator has advised Her Highness propose a vote of no confidence in the Chancellor," Padmé continued.

And suddenly, Bucky was sitting forward again, like this was very strange and disturbing news. "Why?"

"His power to control the senate is weakened by unkind rumour and accusation," she admitted.

Bucky snorted, almost laughed. "Sorry, no. The figurehead never gets that much power in a democracy, and you said that's what the Republic is?"

"Of course!" Padmé exclaimed, like the idea it might not be was deeply offensive.

"Then the Chancellor doesn't have that sort of power, because the people are supposed to," Bucky explained to her. "The Senate will vote on the evidence and emotion you present to them, not on his word. Or any potential replacement's. You'd only be wasting time making them take another vote before yours."

"How do you know this?" Shmi asked. Obi-Wan, strangely, wasn't intervening. Like he agreed with Bucky, but wanted to see where it was going.

"Political leaders are replaced all the time, and business continues as usual," Bucky explained. "The only reasons to want one removed is if they're really popular and you want to demoralise their people... or you want to take some of the power they do have. Who stands to gain from the Chancellor's deposition?"

Padmé frowned. "I don't know, but Senator Palpatine is a good man; he wouldn't suggest this if he didn't believe in it."

"I don't trust any politician's smiling reputation," Bucky sneered, a dark expression crossing his face as if recalling a painful memory. "It's far too easy to fake. And as a friend once told me... good isn't a thing that you are. It's a thing that you do."

Padmé regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment, before nodding slowly. "So you recommend that the Queen's plea be both evidence-based and  emotional?"

"Too much evidence, bored audience. Too much emotion, nothing to act on," Bucky shrugged. "You need both. Paint the full picture, concisely and without digression... then cut their hearts open over it."

"Metaphorically, I should hope," Obi-Wan quipped lightly.

Padmé nodded firmly.

---

"You just keep on inciting revolutions, don't you?" Obi-Wan said, as they walked along the skywalk, towards one of the less excessive shopping areas within the senatorial district. Garen had shown up to bring Cosmo to meet up with Barnes, and taken Anakin to the Temple, so Obi-Wan was free to accompany Barnes and Cosmo as they explored more of the city.

The rain had passed, and it was now a nice clear mid-morning. Perfect for a stroll and the collection of some slightly-above-essential resources.

Sure, they both needed new clothes, but the shops in this area were a bit beyond the usual price range for refugees.

Their first stop was a local bank, to trade the Hutt currency Barnes had chosen to keep (after apparently just handing six million over to the newly freed slaves) for credits, and while Barnes seemed to think this was just fine and normal, Obi-Wan was slightly disturbed by the sheer amount he'd had hidden in his pack.

Apparently, raiding a Hutt's treasure vault was a spectacularly lucrative exercise.

It came out at a little over twenty thousand credits, and Barnes took half on a chip and half in ingots, instead of the usual practice of keeping it all on a chip.

Their first stop was a clothing store advertising itself as 'all species bespoke tailoring'.

"So the Council just requested a demonstration of my abilities, then offered me classes in philosophy at the Temple," Cosmo explained as they walked. "I am still undecided. They seem to think without these teachings I will somehow become a threat? I am only a threat to those who threaten me or my friends, I told them. Ugh, do I really need new clothes? I like my suit!"

"You'll need something to wear to nice parties, and something for covert operations. At least two generic civilian sets, as well," Barnes explained. "Please tell me you at least take that thing off to sleep, because otherwise I worry about what's happening to your skin and fur."

"Of course I take it off to sleep," Cosmo protested. "What sort of animal do you think I am?! Fine, fine, but only because you are paying."

"Sorry, no pets," the proprietor of the shop said as they entered.

"Who are you calling a pet, four-eyes!" Cosmo snapped. The man did in fact have four eyes.

And to his credit, he apologised immediately. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realise you were sentient."

"A lot of people make that mistake," Barnes said. "We were hoping perhaps with a better wardrobe, she would have less of a problem?"

Cosmo grumbled quietly, but didn't argue. "Yes, I want something glamorously fashionable... two ordinary outfits; subtle and understated... and something all in black. Maybe a little embroidery in red, on that last one."

"I swear, if it's an hourglass..." Barnes said with a shake of his head. "She'll haunt you. You know that, right?"

"Maybe I want that? Another friend can't hurt!" Cosmo laughed, but Obi-Wan could sense the pain in it, echoing from both of them.

The assistant called over another employee from further into the shop, gesturing to Barnes and Obi-Wan. "Right this way, ma'am," he said, leading the way. Cosmo trotted after him.

The other employee cautiously approached Barnes and Obi-Wan, evaluating them both. "How can I help you today, gentlemen?"

"I need some new clothes, and I'm not familiar with local fashion," Barnes admitted. "I don't want to stand out in the wrong way."

"Of course, we can help you," the assistant nodded.

Obi-Wan got the strong feeling he was wanted for advice, as well... in case the shopkeeper misled Barnes on what would blend in and what would not.

He sat down and waited as the assistant took Barnes' measurements, then when the being bustled off, Barnes quietly asked. "What are local customs on-" It was strange; he said a single very short word, but the translation came across as, "-gratuitous offerings of extra currency to show appreciation for exemplary service."

"Uh, that's not generally done in the Republic," Obi-Wan admitted, a bit confused. Had this been a common custom on the human homeworld? "Deliberate overpayments tend to be seen less as a pleasant bonus and more as the slimier sort of bribe."

Barnes shrugged. "Okay, then."

And just then, the assistant came back with a large swatch of fabrics and a datapad lit up with a design for a formal suit.

After clothes, they were going to go to a tech shop, to pick up some basics there. Then Barnes wanted to check out a personal defence vendor, as well.

Obi-Wan settled in for the predictable long haul.

---

It was a common prayer, on the outer rim.

Every slave dreams of it. Whispers of it. Tells stories of it.

Freedom.

And Tatooine had found it.

The stories spread across the Outer Rim, whispered in secret, fervent and full of hope. If a Hutt world like that can be freed, anywhere can.

The retellings spoke of a human man who broke his own chains and overthrew the oppressors. Or was it a Twi'lek woman? Or a slaver betraying their own for the word of an outsider? Some say a child played the most pivotal role.

It all got mixed up, but it still carried the gist of truth.

It all got mixed in with ancient legend and myth. Things that were lost to history, only half-remembered in the collective subconscious.

And the prayers continued.

---

Chapter Text

---

"The Chair recognises the Senator from the Sovereign System of Naboo."

In the vast chamber of the Senate dome, Padmé watched as Senator Palpatine stepped to the controls of their pod, and pressed the button to send it out to hover before the Chair.

"Supreme Chancellor, delegates of the Senate," he called as he approached. "A tragedy has occurred, which started right here with the taxation of trade routes, and has now engulfed our entire planet in the oppression of the Trade Federation."

"This is outrageous!" the Federation representative predictably denied. "I object to the Senator's statements!"

"The Chair does not recognise the Senator from the Trade Federation at this time."

Yet, still their protest was heard. And murmurs echoed around the Federation's allies of quiet agreement and support.

"To state our allegations," Senator Palpatine continued. "I present Queen Amidala, recently elected ruler of the Naboo, who speaks on our behalf."

"Honourable representatives of the Republic, I come to you under the gravest of circumstances. The Naboo System has been invaded by the droid armies of the Trade-"

"I object!" the Trade Federation representative interrupted again. "There is no proof! This is incredible. We recommend-"

Padmé pressed a button on her personal comm, and from the overhead projectors - usually reserved for grand announcements - a holoimage appeared.

She had not wanted to break protocol, had wanted this to be a simple and reasonable request. She had intended to bring this evidence up through the appropriate channels, at the appropriate time... but the Trade Federation persisted in interrupting her, and Barnes was right. She needed to make the senate feel her pain at her people's suffering.

The holoimage showed the Queen and her entourage, under fire from droids, racing up the ramp of a ship, while Qui-Gon defended them with his lightsaber. She had carefully chosen to show only the first half of this recording, which included far more droids and did not show Barnes at all. Naboo's architecture, and even a piece of its natural landscape was visible in the holo.

Silence echoed as the image faded, and then an audio file played.

"How will you explain this invasion to the Senate?" Sio Bibble's voice, clearly recognisable, echoed through the chamber.

"The Queen and I will sign a treaty that will legitimise our occupation here," Nute Gunray's voice answered. "I have assurances it will be ratified by the Senate."

"I will not cooperate," Sabé's voice - the Royal Voice - replied.

"Now, now, Your Highness. In time, the suffering of your people will persuade you to see our point of view."

After the recording ended, she paused a moment for that to sink right in to those around her. "I ask you, Senators," she called out. "What legitimate treaty is made under duress, under violent occupation?"

"This is incredible!" the Federation delegate protested. "We recommend a commission be sent to Naboo, to ascertain the truth!"

"Two Jedi were present!" Padmé called out clearly, cutting that line right off. Cut to their hearts. "Sent to investigate by the Chancellor himself. They ascertained your proof, Senators. I have shown it to you, and they will testify if you wish it. The people of Naboo need aid now! If the Trade Federation protests its innocence, and can prove its taxes and treaty are legal, it should do so after  my people have been freed from invasion and starvation! If they wish to attempt to hold anyone accountable for their assertions, it should be me, not my citizens! How many more must starve before you will act? I am here to request that this Senate immediately censure the Trade Federation if they refuse to cease their hostilities against my people, and send a detachment of Judicial Forces to Naboo, to ensure their cooperation. If the Senate is willing to do this, then I am willing to remain on Coruscant to face, in person, any accusations made by the Federation against the Naboo government."

She turned to the Trade Federation representative, allowing her emotions to slip past her mask, and her tears to show in her eyes, as the camera for the public to view focused on her. "Please, spare my people. Take me instead."

"The Senator for Alderaan supports Queen Amidala's request for aid to her people," the Senator in question called out, his own pod approaching to line up beside hers.

"The Senator for Pantora seconds this."

The crowd overwhelmingly turned in her favour, and the vote passed by a wide majority.

---

Where did this fire come from? What had changed for the nervous child, just appointed far too much responsibility, and leaning on him for guidance? So easy to lead, before, yet now... she had become a liability.

Maul had just returned from his failure to even so much as find her on Tatooine before her ship had completed its repairs. Perfect. He could easily blame the Trade Federation for her assassination. It was worth losing that pawn to eliminate this Queen... and her death, on top of the invasion, would gain him a significant sympathy vote, when the election rolled around in its due course.

A few months' wait on that particular front would cause no delay to the grand plan.

---

Obi-Wan, Bucky, and Cosmo had seen the live broadcast of what happened in the Senate, and went to visit the Naboo suite as soon as they were done with their shopping. "You were fantastic," Cosmo assured the girl wearing the Queen's gown and makeup, while Bucky's gaze lingered on Padmé nearby.

"Yes, it was most impressive," Obi-Wan agreed brightly. "I'm afraid I must be leaving soon. Master Qui-Gon and I are to join the Judicial detachment. I hear Masters Clee Rhara and Plo Koon, as well as their Padawans, will be joining us, as well."

"I can help, too, if you want," Bucky offered. Cosmo slowly stood, tail wagging to suggest she was tentatively interested in helping, as well.

"With a full detachment and half a dozen Jedi, the Federation's droid army won't stand a chance," Obi-Wan said, "But if you want, we won't turn you away. Just be sure to get your citizenship paperwork finalised, and sign on as volunteers with the Judicial craft, before we leave."

Suddenly, Bucky got the familiar eerie feeling of being watched, and then almost immediately he noticed it, the lights went out.

His night-vision wasn't perfect, but it was well above human average. Steve once said that he could see what he was doing in near pitch darkness, and while Bucky wasn't quite on that level, he was just fine here with the city lights and starlight filtering in from outside.

There was movement from the ventilation shaft, and then an explosion.

And a man emerged from the smoke and shadows. Tall and thin, with a crown of horns around his head like the artwork Bucky had seen of Jotuns. In this lighting, he couldn't see the skin-colour so well, but it seemed patterned somehow.

He moved like liquid, darting forward, heading directly for the girl dressed as the Queen. Bucky put himself in the man's path, dodging a swipe of a knife, and managed to strike him hard where the duodenum would be on a human. He was clearly close enough to human to gag as he should at that, but he reeled back and took another swing with the knife, instead of either staying down or retreating as most would.

Bucky caught the blade on his left arm, and twisted it around so he could grab the man's wrist, putting the full force of the prosthetic into first twisting the assailant's arm until it fractured higher up, then crushing the bones of the wrist... and then not letting go. He got a very sharp knee to the groin for his trouble, but still refused to let go even when that dragged him down. The knife was on the floor, and both he and the assailant reached for it with their free hands.

It looked as if the man was trying to will the weapon to return to him, rather than trying to reach it for himself... and Bucky promptly categorised him as a higher threat level, for possible telekinesis like the Jedi. Bucky almost got his hand on the knife, but then it flew away from both of them, and towards Cosmo.

She barked loudly, and snarled threateningly, as the blade hovered in the air under her control. As Bucky saw this, he also noticed that several pieces of furniture had rearranged themselves to protect the Queen and her handmaidens, likely also Cosmo's doing, but perhaps Obi-Wan's?

Obi-Wan had at some point ignited his lightsaber, giving the room a bit more illumination, tinted an ethereal blue, but he hesitated to attack when an ally was in such close quarters to the enemy.

Several of the Queen's guards - front and centre being the young blond man that Bucky had borrowed civilian clothes from - had their weapons out at the ready, formed up behind the furniture barricade, as well.

Barely a moment had passed to take in these observations, and Bucky swiftly resumed the fight, turning the assailant's arm, which he still held, so that the elbow locked, and when he lunged upwards from where he had been forced to crouch on the ground, it pushed up at the assailant's shoulder and caused another break there. He then also struck with his right hand, an uppercut to the man's jaw. And returned the knee-to-groin favour, while he was at it... all in one fluid movement.

The broken bones were slowing the man down, and Bucky's grip held him in close combat, but he was still fighting, trying to claw at Bucky's face with his free left hand, going for his eyes. Bucky elbowed that grasping hand away, turned into the hold so his back was to the man, and pulled forwards and downwards, hard. He would guess it was a fifty-fifty chance, whether that broken arm would give entirely and be ripped off at one point or another... but it held, and he hurled the man over his shoulder and onto the ground. Even cushioned by the plush carpet, he heard something crack with the force of the impact.

The man groaned in pain - the very first sound he had made, so far - and then slumped, finally defeated. Unconscious, blood seeping from his mouth from the internal damage such a full-body impact would likely cause... but still breathing.

The lights flickered back on, and more guards raced into the room.

The man's skin was black and red, patterned in sharp lines. The horns were yellowed, looking like exposed bone. His eyes - still slightly open, but unfocused in the way of people who had very much not  fallen asleep gently - were a striking blend of blood red and acid yellow. His entire outfit was loose-fitting black fabric.

And when Obi-Wan knelt down beside him and checked his belt... he pulled away a laser-sword, very like those the Jedi used.

In the silence that followed, Obi-Wan scowled at the weapon, before cautiously igniting it. The blade was red, and judging by Obi-Wan's shocked gasp that was somehow significant, even if Bucky had no idea why.

The blade vanished again, just as quickly.

"We must inform the Council of this," Obi-Wan declared. "Can you carry him?" he asked Bucky, who nodded and picked the unconscious man up very roughly and hung him over his left shoulder.

"Your Highness, I believe this assassin may have been sent for you," Captain Panaka said.

Not many would notice the subtle way she did it, but the girl dressed as the Queen glanced over at the cluster of handmaidens. All of them looked shaken. Padmé folded her arms, and looked down.

The girl dressed as the Queen nodded seriously to Panaka. "We will wait here, under our guards' protection, while you deal with the assailant, Master Jedi."

Cosmo barked. "I will protect the Queen, as well! No one will suspect the doggo!"

"Good dog," Bucky said, causing an overwhelmingly positive reaction from her, just before he and Obi-Wan departed.

They got into a flying car - the Jedi had called them 'speeders' earlier - and Bucky laid the unconscious man out on the back seat. He positioned himself in a crouch between the seats, and rested his artificial hand so that it loosely gripped the man's neck. One wrong move, and he planned to start squeezing.

The flight was tense, and he tried to break that feeling a little. "Who is he?"

"I don't know," Obi-Wan admitted. "But a red lightsaber historically has a singular meaning, and I hope very much that I'm wrong."

"Why? What is its meaning?" Bucky asked with a frown.

Obi-Wan sighed, then explained, "Over a thousand years ago, the Jedi had an ancient enemy called the Sith. The legends tell that they were once like us, but they split from the Order due to, uh... ideological differences; a desire to rule and conquer that was directly at odds with the Jedi goal of peace and protection of the innocent. The Sith, to the best of our historical knowledge, came into being over five thousand years ago, and notoriously wielded red-bladed lightsabers. The only red lightsabers seen in recent times were of fallen Jedi trying to emulate them... but Zabrak with those markings aren't at all common, and I don't think any have ever been taken in as Jedi."

Bucky frowned at that news. Zabrak, he had learned from Garen, were an alien species with horns, so he didn't need to ask for clarification on that. He had even seen one member of the Jedi Council - who had very different facial markings on light tan skin, and horns covered by skin - who he had thought at the time might be what a Zabrak was. Could well still be the same species, as far as Bucky knew.

They flew the rest of the way to the Temple in silence, landing in a smaller hanger, lower down and around to the side of the building, rather than the main one from Bucky's first visit to the Temple. This was more discreet, only designed to hold three or four of these smaller speeders, whereas the main landing bay had held what looked like they might have been actual spaceships as well.

Qui-Gon Jinn, Mace Windu, and one of the two short green creatures from the Jedi Council were waiting there, to greet them in the small landing bay.

"We heard there was an attack?" Qui-Gon asked.

Bucky hauled their prisoner out of the speeder, and held him securely, so he wouldn't get away if he woke. Obi-Wan, face grim, held up the man's lightsaber in a clearly passive stance, glanced at their assailant to clearly indicate where it came from... then ignited the red blade.

---

A red lightsaber.

A Sith artefact. Or at least a very effective attempt to imitate one.

Mace Windu had hoped he would never see such a thing as this.

Yet here it was.

And here, also, was that strange human who claimed to be from the homeworld... dragging what all evidence suggested was the owner of said Sith artefact into the Temple, like a loth-cat bringing a dead bird as a gift.

The Zabrak's right arm hung limp, broken in three visible places, and he may have internal injuries, judging by the trickle of blood from his mouth. The pattern of his tattoos was reminiscent of the Dathomiri Nightbrothers and, even unconscious, he emanated a kind of hate and darkness that one might expect from the Dark Side.

And while Barnes was supporting the prisoner's weight, he also had that artificial hand clamped around the man's neck, ready to restrain him if he woke.

Barnes was dangerous in his own right, capable of great violence if he felt it necessary, and Mace was starting to believe that he was at least partially responsible for this man's capture and injuries. In this case, he was also demonstrating a startling degree of wisdom in his handling of the prisoner. No trust, no quarter given to one so dangerous.

Takes one to know one, he thought briefly, and immediately berated himself for it. Barnes was not hateful or monstrous in the way the Sith were known to be; he was cold and practical, and willing to do evil for the sake of good, but that was a very different thing.

But he had brought this man in alive.

"We believe he meant to kill Queen Amidala, Masters," Obi-Wan explained, as he deactivated the red lightsaber. "Captain Panaka suggested he was sent , like an ordinary assassin."

Barnes chuckled. "Yeah, I agree with Panaka. He was almost certainly sent. Or hired. Or however people get their assassins these days. Bounty board?"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at Barnes' idea of a joke, and Mace could sense hollow amusement from Qui-Gon as well. He could also sense that this expression of humour was a stress-induced coping mechanism on Barnes' part, though he had to focus quite carefully to discern anything much about Barnes' emotions at all, the man was so repressed in the Force.

Obi-Wan stepped forward to hand over the lightsaber. Mace reached out to take it, and he could feel the way the kyber echoed with pain, even before he was within two metres of it. The old legends spoke of Sith 'bleeding' their crystals to turn them red - and their more recent imitators has indeed done so - to attune them to the Dark Side. He was not at all happy to see the evidence of this in his own hands.

Mace gestured for everyone to follow him. He led the way to a holding cell capable of restraining Force users. They hadn't had cause to use it in quite some time, and it was below the generally perceived 'surface' levels of the city; below the point where sunlight could easily reach. He took the more circuitous route, avoiding populated hallways, so no one would accidentally happen to see their prisoner.

Once the assassin was properly restrained, he turned to the others once more. "His markings resemble those of the Dathomiri Nightbrothers. I know our treaty with the Nightsisters strongly advises mutual avoidance, but I believe we should send a peaceful envoy there, to enquire. Masters Gallia and Unduli may be best suited, if Master Unduli is willing to leave her new Padawan in the Temple. This mission will not be safe for children."

Master Yoda nodded thoughtfully. "For the Council, a brief discussion, this will be. Learn more, I believe we must."

"We should also attempt to question him," Qui-Gon pointed out. "He may be resistant, but he also may let something slip even if he doesn't mean to."

"I've done an interrogation or two in my time," Barnes said, far too casually. "And as the one who defeated him, he might either fear or respect me more than the rest of you. Obi-Wan can supervise me, if you like. I could use someone sitting back in line of sight, promising him some positive incentive if he talks, but also claiming to be unable to stop me from maiming him some more, so he'd better cooperate. It's a good strategy to get people like him to talk, and he has  already seen Obi-Wan fail to stop me from maiming him once."

"I- yes, sorry," Obi-Wan admitted reluctantly.

Mace's eyes widened slightly at the revelation that Barnes had incapacitated a practitioner of the Dark Side alone . But then he shook his head. "This matter is to be one of utmost secrecy," he declared, with a brief glance at Yoda, who nodded in agreement. "For official purposes, he attempted to escape when your speeder landed, and he fell down into the depths. We sent an investigative team-" he gestured to Qui-Gon, to convey that he was the investigator in this fiction, "-and found him splattered across the rooftops of level three-seven-six-eight."

Barnes sighed. "You think someone will try to silence him, if they know he's alive to talk." It was not a question, but rather a reasonable deduction given the circumstances.

"It is likely," Qui-Gon admitted. "All the old legends of Sith speak of a brutal disregard for life, and little if any tolerance for failure. Even if they do not fear what he could tell us, any other Sith would see him as weak for getting caught in the first place."

"It is far more likely that this is an attempt to imitate the Sith, as opposed to the real thing," Obi-Wan pointed out, but he shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure in his assertion.

"Your words you doubt, Padawan Kenobi?" Yoda asked.

"I've never heard of a Nightbrother Jedi," Obi-Wan admitted meekly. "And, well, if he isn't a fallen Jedi, that means somebody else must have trained him."

"Hmm," Yoda leaned forward on his stick, in a clear sign of deep thought. "Always two there are," he said thoughtfully, nodding slowly. "If sent this one was, the Apprentice he likely is."

"He will need a healer, Masters," Obi-Wan pointed out. "Secrecy won't do us much good if he doesn't live to share anything worth concealing."

"Master Che we shall send for," Yoda agreed. "A healer's oath she has taken, maintaining patient privacy she is accustomed to."

Mace nodded to that. It was a reasonable concession. "Barnes, you may attempt your interrogation, if I fail to reason with him myself, but you are not to further harm him unless he proves a genuine threat."

Barnes shrugged, feigning nonchalance well. "No problem. But could you do me one favour?"

"What would that be?" Mace asked coldly.

"Don't let him think he's safe from me. Make it look to him like you're not going to stop me from ripping him to pieces, if I need to use that threat to make him talk."

Mace frowned deeply at that, but slowly nodded. He understood from the ancient legends of Sith - and the general ideologies of the Dark Side - that they were, in fact, far more likely to respond to negative stimuli, and that Barnes' strategy may well be their best option for learning why this particular assassin had been sent after Queen Amidala.

---

Former Jedi Master, Count Dooku of Serrano, had just finished erasing the data for Kamino from the Jedi Archives.

On his way into the Temple, he had heard rumours flying around. A Sith assassin attacked the Naboo senatorial suites. That was most disturbing, given all that Dooku had been doing recently.

Another odd story was that of a supposed relic of the human homeworld living, breathing, and walking around the Temple... purportedly discovered by Qui-Gon. Of course, if something so strange and unexpected was going to be found, Qui-Gon's involvement was perhaps the least shocking aspect of it.

As he was crossing the main library floor, after committing the deed for which he had come here, he spotted Qui-Gon himself, escorting a stranger - perhaps this ancient human, or at least the inspiration for such wild tales - toward the elevator that led to the restricted artefacts archive. Master Yoda was with them, also.

"Ah, Qui-Gon," Dooku greeted warmly. "Are the wild rumours I'm hearing true?"

"Which ones?" Qui-Gon retorted with a smile. "It's good to see you too, Master Dooku."

Dooku smiled faintly. "Well, the rumours I've been hearing suggest that you discovered a survivor of the long-lost human homeworld." He laughed lightly. "Of course, that's impossible."

"I learned, a long time ago, never to use that word," the stranger said, and it took some effort for Dooku to read him; pained, yet amused by the reaction he was getting.

"I apologise for the details getting out into the rumour mill, as they seem to have done," Qui-Gon said to his companion. "I guess word travels fast."

"It's alright, I don't mind," the man lied. He very clearly did mind; it was written all over his body-language, though his presence in the Force was nigh-indiscernible. "I was, apparently, in cryogenic suspension for a very long time."

"So it is true?" Dooku asked, utterly stunned.

"Yes, and he's staying at the Temple as a guest until he can get his bearings in the present day," Qui-Gon answered with a curt nod.

"Apologise we must," Yoda interrupted. "Seeking the wisdom of the holocrons, we are. Urgent it is."

Dooku bowed to Yoda. "Of course, apologies for my intrusion."

"Well, you could come with us, if you want?" Qui-Gon offered, and Dooku only just noticed the flash of movement that was Yoda's gimer stick smacking Qui-Gon's ankle in rebuke.

Now that made Dooku want to know more, and Master Yoda was not explicitly refuting the invitation. "Thank you, Qui-Gon. I would be delighted."

---

Bucky followed as Yoda and Qui-Gon led the way through a dim chamber, full of glowing blue cubes, each one cased in fine metal filigree, and set upon ornate pedestals that suggested they were highly valued. Each pedestal was decorated and adorned differently, perhaps in tribute to whatever made each cube so special. Because it was perfectly clear that each cube was somehow special... some more than others. Some sat on plain plinths with minor engravings around them, most were moderately ornate, while a rare few were so lavish that they almost looked like they belonged on Asgard.

The one saving grace these cubes had in Bucky's mind was that they were not quite  Tesseract blue. Only a few shades off, but that was almost enough. It still made him uneasy, all the same.

This other older Jedi; Dooku, followed along, almost side by side with Bucky, as if he knew damned well that Yoda didn't want him tagging along, and that made him want it more. Bucky empathised with the feeling.

They stopped in front of one cube in particular. This one's plinth was modestly decorated, yet felt like it was more significant - more austere - than many of the others. Bucky got the strong vibe of a war memorial from it. Yoda waved his hand up in its general direction. The cube glowed a bit brighter, and the corners turned as it levitated... then an image of a woman appeared. She looked to be perhaps in her fifties or sixties, by Bucky's best guess, and she wore Jedi style robes, her hair in elaborate braids to hold it back from her face.

She smiled when she saw Yoda, "Ah, Master Yoda, to what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm at the suggestion there might possibly be a pleasant motive for them being here.

"Grandmaster Shan," Yoda bowed his head. "We have come seeking information on the Sith."

He levitated the red lightsaber up for her to see, and ignited it.

"Hmm, double blade," Shan said, eyeing the weapon thoughtfully. "These fell out of favour among the Sith after Darth Imperius' very public defection to the Light. It has become a literal symbol of being two-faced within the Force; even the Jedi acknowledge this. So, I'd say there's two possibilities here. Either one of these new-fangled Banites we spoke of, the last time someone woke me." The way she looked at Yoda... it was definitely Yoda who had woken her last. "They seem to disregard a lot of the classic Sith superstitions. Or it could be a Revanchist, honouring my ancestor by wielding her favoured weapon. What can you tell me about this Sith's actions?"

"Are we certain it is even a Sith, and not some imposter?" Dooku asked.

"Certain we are not," Yoda admitted. "Yet cautious, prepared, we must be."

"He was sent to assassinate a well-beloved planetary ruler," Qui-Gon answered Shan's question.

"Hmm, probably not Revanchist, then," Shan said with a sigh. "Shame, I almost liked some of them, and Revan himself... well, you know my opinion, Master Yoda."

To Bucky's ears, her tone declared quite clearly that her feelings for this 'Revan' were mixed between admiration and exasperation. It was a familiar tone; he tended to hear it a lot from those who really  got to know Steve, the brilliant, reckless idiot hiding behind the legend of a hero. She even rolled her eyes the same kind of way, as well. It made Bucky curious about who this person was.

He watched patiently as she examined the lightsaber more closely, as if it could tell her something that eluded the other Jedi. "These engravings here-" She pointed to the centre of the hilt, "-are in the old Kittât language, which to my knowledge is entirely extinct outside holocron data sets such as my own. The translation is a rough paraphrase of an ancient Sith adage about abandonment and hate. I'm afraid this is quite likely to be a Banite Apprentice... and a weak one at that, to have failed a simple assassination. Young, perhaps inexperienced?"

"I thought the Banites were wiped out centuries ago?" Qui-Gon asked dubiously.

"Must have missed one," Bucky grumbled, put far too much in mind of HYDRA, all of a sudden. Cut off one head...

Qui-Gon shook his head, and addressed Grandmaster Shan. "He looked under twenty-five standard, I would guess."

"He knew what he was doing, he just came up against someone better at it," Bucky added, and he could see the uneasy way Qui-Gon and Yoda shifted at that statement. Dooku didn't seem to realise the insinuation, that Bucky was the one who was better. No one had told him the details, then. Perhaps he assumed a Jedi had defeated this assassin. "And he wasn't using the lightsaber, just a knife."

"Ah, so he did not intend to reveal himself," Shan nodded. "No distinctive burns, kill all the witnesses, and pin it on someone else. This makes sense. The Banites, as I understand them, follow a few specific rules. First there is the Rule of Two, as you know, Master Yoda. This isn't a hard and fast rule, only that there are two qualified  Sith; the Master and the Apprentice. This assassin may only have been training to become the Apprentice, or he could have been on one of his first missions as the Apprentice.

"If they are thought extinct now, the Banites would have gone deep underground... metaphorically we can hope. If it is truly them you are facing, you can be assured, there is a backup in the wings... assuming he was not in fact that backup himself. Perhaps even half a dozen potential Apprentices, who may not yet realise that they fill that role. To the Master, they will all be pawns. The only real difference between the Sith of my time and the Banites is that my era's Sith were flashy, melodramatic, and their leaders openly worked to build an army out of all their followers, Force-sensitive or not. The Banites work in the shadows, and any pawns they use will be entirely expendable, if they even realise they are being used at all. If there is a Banite sect active, there will be other evidence hidden, waiting to be discovered. You'll have to dig deep. Anything disruptive, check its motive."

"How do you know all of this?" Dooku asked.

"I met Darth Bane, briefly," Shan answered.

"I thought only a Jedi could unlock a Jedi holocron?" Qui-Gon asked.

"And usually only a practitioner of the Dark Side may open a Sith holocron," Shan agreed with a nod. "But due to my time working alongside Marr, Imperius, and Wrath, I realised such a need may arise again. Imperius helped me to create a dark key, which allows a Sith to activate my holocron, to speak with me, but grants me full control of any data they may attempt to download."

"What?" Bucky asked, confused.

"Normally, holocron data can be downloaded freely by those who activate them," Qui-Gon explained. "This way, Grandmaster Shan would be able to protect her secrets, whilst also being able to communicate with a Sith, should a similar threat reemerge as existed in her time."

"Precisely," Shan agreed with another nod. "And I, in turn, helped Darth Imperius create a light key for their holocron, to the same ends."

"So is a holocron like an artificial intelligence?" Bucky asked, dubiously.

"They are Force-imprinted copies of the personality of the Jedi - or Sith - who made them," Dooku explained. "Close to, but not quite sentient. Pre-programmed by their makers. So yes, I suppose your terminology is correct."

"About the Banites, what can you tell us?" Yoda asked, still focused on Shan.

"Bane preached a grand plan, but it was no different from anything his predecessors wanted, save the method. Galactic domination; the usual Sith goal, but to be achieved by stealth and secrecy. The Sith of my time were cutthroat and ruthless, don't get me wrong, but they often understood the concept of cooperation, the basic premise that a happy follower can be a productive follower. That fear is a valuable tool but so is loyalty, even if they could never truly trust in it. The Banites were something else; a new level of self above all else. A true egomania I hadn't seen since Vitiate, and they were eager to pass it down their legacy."

"We're dealing with someone who aspires to emulate Vitiate? " Qui-Gon asked in some degree of horror.

"In morality, at least," Shan answered solemnly. "We can all hope that this particular Sith Master doesn't eat planets ."

With that, she disappeared, the cube shifted back to its original shape, and settled back down on its plinth.

Bucky groaned. Not another planet-eater. He remembered when Galactus had come to Earth, and been defeated somehow. He had neither been involved in that battle, nor ever found out the exact details; it had been on the news, so he knew about as much as the average citizen, which wasn't really all that much... and it was just downright terrifying  to think that beings like that existed out there.

"Eat... planets?" Dooku asked quietly.

"You should read the old Eternal Empire stories, Master," Qui-Gon told him, with a shake of his head. "Vitiate was one of the greatest threats this galaxy has ever faced. Sith and Jedi allied to fight him; Grandmaster Shan played a significant role in that war. They say even Revan came back from the dead to fight him."

"Can we bring people back? I have a list, and that's just to fight this Sith... there's also the personal list." Bucky grumbled darkly.

"Revan was a, ah... special case," Qui-Gon admitted.

"Let me guess; believed dead, not really dead?" Bucky asked, and after a brief pause Qui-Gon nodded in answer. "Been there, done that," Bucky quipped bitterly, before sighing. "I need to do more homework, don't I?"

"A refresher on Vitiate and Revan's exploits, we may all benefit from," Yoda declared. "Help us better understand this current threat, it may."

---

Chapter Text

---

Anakin stood before the Jedi Council, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his new shirt.

This one was blue. Blue was super expensive on Tatooine, but just normal here - like water - and he really liked the deep rich shade, almost exactly like the Coruscant sky at twilight.

His mom had bought it for him, just yesterday, with some of the money that Old Jira had let her take from the big crate. She had bought him at least six outfits, he thought. He lost count. They weren't fancy, like the Naboo people wore, but they were really comfy. They were all warm enough for his being used to desert heat but now living on a colder planet, and loose enough that he could do a fair bit more growing before they would need to be replaced.

He really liked the new clothes. It wasn't that he wanted tons of stuff, the way greedy people did. He was just so in awe of how much nicer and softer these new clothes were. That they were considered of the lowest basic standard, by everyone on Coruscant, but they were so much nicer than anything else he'd ever worn.

The Council asked him to tell them what was on a bunch of screens without showing him the screens. He wasn't sure if they wanted him to know the screen without using his eyes, or read Master Mundi's mind, as that was who was holding and watching the datapad. He tried the screen first, because he figured trying to read someone's mind would be rude... and that worked, so he answered them all.

Then Master Yoda asked, "How feel you?"

"Nervous, sir," he answered.

"Nervous, you are? Of what, might I ask?"

"I'd really like to be a Jedi, but I heard I'm too old," he said honestly. "So I'm worried you'll say no."

"What would you do if you were denied entry into the Order?" Master Mundi asked.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I haven't thought about it. I guess I'd stay with my mom. She might become a Senator. And I'm a really good mechanic, so I could do that, too."

"Disappointed, upset, you would be?"

"Well, yes. I'd be disappointed, I guess."

"Of the Jedi, what do you expect?" Yoda asked.

"The stories say you help people. I'd like to help people, too."

"Like Mr Barnes helped the slaves on Tatooine," Master Mundi asked, and it felt off, like he was trying to trip Anakin up somehow.

Anakin frowned and really thought about it before he answered. "Yes, but not the way he did it? Jedi don't kill, even bad guys, unless they have to."

It was the truth, even if he still really admired the fact Bucky killed those two Hutts. Sometimes the bad guys have it coming... but Jedi don't kill, and he really did want to be a Jedi, so he would obey that rule if they let him join.

Somehow, something echoed or rippled around the air. He wasn't sure what it was, but he guessed it was the Force. For a moment, he would swear someone nearby was afraid, but he couldn't figure out who or why, or why he even thought that.

Master Yoda was watching him really closely, now. "Join the Jedi, you may, young Skywalker."

---

How could his Apprentice have been defeated so swiftly and decisively?

He had trained Maul from childhood to be the very embodiment of a Sith warrior. And he had been! There ought to have been no contest, between Maul and the Jedi Padawan who had been present in the Queen's quarters.

The Queen, her handmaidens, her security, that one Jedi Padawan, and the two irrelevant civilians unfortunate enough to mistime their visit... should have all been dead by now.

It should have been a simple and easy task. An absolute bloodbath.

And yet, his Apprentice had been captured, dragged to the Jedi Temple, barely escaped... and not even managed to escape alive!

At least the Jedi only recovered remains to autopsy. He doubted Maul would have turned against him, or broken under interrogation, had he been taken alive... but he would have needed to be eliminated just for failure alone, at this point, not to even bother mentioning the need to ensure his silence.

There was nothing traceable in Maul's corpse. It may even send the Jedi on a wild veeka chase to Dathomir.

But to add insult to injury, there were not even any reported injuries to the intended victims, nor to any of the Jedi who had encountered Maul at the Temple!

The reports were already circling; an assassination attempt, by a man carrying a red lightsaber. Oh, he had wielded a knife, but no one paid mind to that; a red lightsaber must bring up all the old stories of the Sith Lords and Empires from before the rule of two. The news was calling it 'a terrible ghost of the past, come to life in the present' .

Only a few reasonable sceptics were considering even the possibility that the weapon was a theft, a forgery, a trophy, or the like. It would take a great deal of effort to quell these rumours.

It was also quite frustrating that he had no access to any recordings of the attack, because he had ordered Maul to remove evidence of himself... and that, at least, the Apprentice had done right. He had no opportunity to review the footage and learn just precisely how  the Jedi had managed to best his diligent years of training, and Maul's innate, brilliant rage.

And now it was all wasted. What a spectacular disappointment.

He would have to replace Maul, and soon.

---

"Can you think of any reason why anyone would attempt to assassinate you?" Qui-Gon Jinn asked Padmé.

She frowned up at him, deeply disapproving of his disregard for procedure. She gave a very pointed look at Eirtaé, who was wearing the royal regalia today, before returning her sharp gaze to him. They were in her royal suite of the senatorial building, those present being herself, Master Jinn, six of her seven handmaidens including Eirtaé, her royal guard, Captain Panaka, and Mr Barnes.

That man; Barnes... he just seemed to insert himself into these significant situations. Always conveniently tagging along, even when - as was made clear this morning - the Jedi obviously disapproved. In fact, she got the distinct feeling he chose to go where the Jedi least appreciated because he expected it to be the most interesting. Ironically, she did in fact appreciate his presence, in no small part because of how valuable an ally he had proven to be so far.

Even though they were all presumed trustworthy here, it was proper procedure and decorum to address the decoy, regardless of one's knowledge of her true identity, just in case they were being observed.

"The Queen has  made a rather notable political enemy, recently," Padmé said curtly.

"The Federation must truly be desperate," Panaka agreed.

Barnes... snorted as if trying to suppress a derisive laugh. "I know some people can  be that stupid, but do you really think they wanted to make themselves look even worse, and  turn the Queen into a martyr against them?"

A tense moment of frozen shock ran through the room. Neither Padmé, her handmaidens, her guards, nor any of the senatorial staff they had spoken to within the last twenty-four hours, had considered that. Everyone seemed quite keen to imagine the Trade Federation as the absolute villain, but... that wasn't really right, was it?

Master Jinn nodded slowly, casting a thoughtful look Barnes' way. "Everyone is the hero of their own story, and the Trade Federation are notably fond of their public image. Your death - or even this failed attempt at it - so soon after your opposition to them, would certainly reflect badly upon them, regardless of their involvement."

"I heard one of their allies laughing about it," one of the guards - a newer recruit named Jal Wrynn, the very same young man who had loaned civilian clothing to Mr Barnes when they had first arrived on Coruscant - murmured quietly. When all attention turned to him, he spoke more clearly. "Senator Burtoni. I overheard her bemoan the fact that the assassination attempt failed; something about how life would be a lot easier without Her Highness' 'high ideals' interfering in business." At least Wrynn had the good sense to address Eirtaé, even if his gaze did flicker to Padmé for a moment.

"Shallow rivalry," Barnes muttered, shaking his head. "If she'd had a hand in it, it would be incredibly foolish of her to say those things out loud."

"We have reason to believe the assassin was a Sith," Master Jinn said, frowning. "Perhaps the most obvious answer is that Her Highness offended them, in some way?"

That caused another uncomfortable silence, as the guards and handmaidens shared nervous and uncertain looks.

"I'll admit, I haven't read everything about the Sith yet," Barnes said to Jinn, perhaps to break the oppressive silence. "But they want power, right? Like every other selfish person out there, just with the Force to make it easier. How does assassinating the Queen of Naboo help them achieve that goal?"

"Who could possibly benefit from Her Highness' death, but her political enemies?" Panaka demanded angrily.

Barnes tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, "I don't really know, I don't know the political landscape that well, yet, either. Let's just say it's probably a much longer list than you think."

Panaka huffed angrily, and commented darkly, "It does seem awfully convenient that you turn up to aid the Jedi, just as their ancient enemy re-emerges from the shadows."

Barnes... actually laughed. A real, jovial laugh. "Oh, it wouldn't be the first time I found myself on the wrong side of a giant mess that wasn't my fault, but sure looked conspicuously similar to my own situation."

There was definitely something to his words; some pain hidden underneath the humour. Padmé couldn't quite bring herself to believe he was involved so directly with the Sith threat, though she did imagine he was resolved to setting himself against them, as was everyone else in this room.

Panaka continued to glare dubiously.

Padmé glanced at Eirtaé, who nodded in answer, and spoke up in the Royal Voice. "We must consider our next course of action carefully. Not merely for our own planet, but for the safety of the Republic as a whole."

"If I may be blunt, your Highness?" Master Jinn spoke up, finally taking the hint and addressing Eirtaé. She nodded to allow him to speak further. "This may be the best time, politically speaking, for you to take any action you deem necessary to fortify your position. Sympathy from the Senate will be at an all-time high, after the combined events of the Trade Federation's duplicity, and this attempt on your life."

Barnes' gaze shifted to Jinn in a wide-eyed way that spoke of uncomfortable realisation. "That's who benefits," he said, shooting a look at Panaka. "Whoever tries to make a move based on that sympathy, if you don't get there first. Your real allies will line up at your side. Your enemies - whether they're behind this or not - will try to move on your circumstances."

---

It was going to take a few days for the captured Sith assassin to recover from the injuries Bucky had inflicted upon him. The sheer force with which he had hit the floor, at the end of the fight, had damaged his spine, broken two ribs, one of which grazed a lung badly enough that another sharp shake would have pushed the broken rib right through it, and bruised several other vital internal organs.

Adding to that the broken arm, and the healer had cursed Bucky quite vehemently for such a brutal assault. "He started it," was all Bucky had to say about that.

Windu was watching over the process of this healing, refusing to leave the man unguarded but also refusing to allow anyone not already in the know to do the job. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan traded out their places on the Judicial vessel headed for Naboo with another experienced pair of Jedi, so they could join in on Sith-guarding duty.

Bucky was not pleased to miss the resolution of the Naboo dispute. He felt like he could be of help there too, but he had seen the way witnesses... 'disappeared', when dealing with this kind of thing on Earth. He had been the means of such 'disappearances' on a fair few occasions... and he decided his experience and skill would be of more value here, interrogating (and potentially protecting) their prisoner.

When he wasn't hanging around the holding area, Bucky spent his time in the Jedi Temple Archive - essentially their library. Often in the company of Dooku, who had finally introduced himself properly.

Bucky tried not to let his past experience of the ranks of nobility taint his opinion of Count Dooku. His similarities to Baron Zemo only seemed to run so far as an air of authority even outside his element, the self-assurance of one who knew his political strength, and a slight hint of a perpetual sneer that failed to come close to the smarm Zemo had displayed.

Dooku was jaded in a way that Bucky rarely saw outside a mirror. It was written all over his face whenever anyone mentioned the Republic or the Senate in his hearing. He didn't explain it, but Bucky could see it. They spent their time together in the library reading up on the Jedi Civil War and the Eternal Empire. It was a hell of a history.

"Wait, so Jedi aren't allowed to get married now, but they were back then?" Bucky asked dubiously.

"The Ruusan Reformation was designed to reduce the risk of falling to the Dark Side. The pain of loss is a great motivator to a fall," Dooku said coldly. "Attachments are discouraged, because of this."

Bucky shrugged. Wanda had gone full villain that way, and dramatically so. And yet, even after everything he had lost, he still believed the popular old quote; "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," he said softly.

"An unpopular philosophy, within the Jedi Temple," Dooku told him. His tone held disdain, but Bucky couldn't tell which side he was on there.

"Weird," Bucky muttered. "Yoda said fear leads to the dark side, yet everyone here seems just terrified of the dark side. Seems counterintuitive, to me."

Dooku chuckled. "You would willingly seek out darkness?"

"I've spent most of my life in darkness," Bucky said quietly, keeping his gaze on the tablet he was reading about Vitiate's assault on Ziost. "All I've ever wanted was a quiet life, all I've ever found was war and conflict. If I have to dive headfirst into another one, I will... even if I'd really rather not."

"According to Temple gossip, you caused quite a stir in the Jedi Council; something along the lines of ' when bad things are happening, and you have the power to prevent them, yet do not at least attempt it, perhaps those bad things are only happening because of you' ?"

Bucky nodded slowly. "To be honest, I was quoting a quote of a quote, and the exact words are long lost to time," he admitted. "So the Jedi aren't immune to idle gossip. Interesting."

"The Jedi are, more often than not, idle. Puppets of the corrupt senate, no longer serving the people they swore to protect. The number of 'bad things' they fail to so much as look upon, nevermind attempt to prevent, multiplies daily."

"Corruption exists no matter who's in charge," Bucky said with a vague shrug. "Sometimes you need to rip the system down, others you need to root the problems out one by one. And it's really bad to get those two needs mixed up." He was reminded of the fall of SHIELD, as he said that. It had still had good people in it, but the system had become far beyond saving. You could have shouted 'Hail HYDRA!' in pretty much any room of the Triskelion, and expected to be on the winning side of the firefight that broke out.

"And which side of that equation do you think we sit on, now?"

"I don't know well enough, yet. I'm still new to the Republic," he admitted. Even if some senators were corrupt, he was comfortable with the idea that the concept as a whole was at least attempting to represent its people. It was better than the alternative he had witnessed.

"You brought Tatooine into the Republic, yet you don't know well enough to trust in it?"

"Do you think they were better off under the Hutts?"

Another long pause. A very clear 'no', but he would not be deterred from his own problems with the Republic. "Would you be willing to rip the system down if it was needed?"

"Always," he agreed quite readily. "But you'd need to prove to me that it really was needed, first."

Dooku nodded slowly. "Understandable."

Silence fell for a while, as they kept reading.

Eventually, Bucky got to the part of the text describing the battle on Yavin 4. "This Revan guy," he said, with a faint smirk. "I kinda like him."

---

And then the historians got to Bucky and Cosmo. Well, historian, singular. She led Cosmo into the library, and apprehended Bucky while he was just finishing reading up on the Jedi Civil War... which, in hindsight, he should probably have started with first.

He was utterly disgusted with what the Jedi of that time had done to try to 'save' Revan... and they hadn't even had the excuse at the time of knowing that Vitiate had done something just as bad to the man first. Bucky had just an hour ago read the tale of the Jedi hero who had talked Arcann down from a lifetime of indoctrination in the Dark Side, but no one had tried to do the same for Malak, who had only been 'fallen' for three years?

This history described Revan and Malak as inseparable best friends before Vitiate got a hold of them, and Bucky couldn't shake the idea that if Revan had really  been redeemed from the Dark, rather than cruelly brainwashed out of it, he would have done anything to do the same for Malak. It hit too close to Bucky's own experiences, but with so many dissonant notes. The Jedi had written this as a tale of redemption... but Bucky just couldn't see it that way. And Revan's later actions seemed to agree with him.

So much hypocrisy, and according to Dooku, it had only gotten worse in the modern era.

Dooku had just left for the evening, and Bucky was quite sure the historian - an elderly Jedi woman who introduced herself as Jocasta Nu - had timed it that way on purpose.

"So what can you tell us about the human homeworld?" Jocasta asked.

"Where do we even begin?" Cosmo asked, radiating confusion. "Planetary environment, sociology, technological level at the point we left?"

"Let's begin with the planet itself," Jocasta suggested.

"Okay then," Cosmo nodded. "Compared to most worlds I've seen in these archives and star charts, it was a very... varied environment. Deserts like Tatooine around one part of the equator, lush jungles around another, verdant green forests, fields, hills, all of that as you travel further north or south, then frozen wastes at the poles. Not on Ilum's level, but inhospitable to humans all the same. And two thirds of the surface covered in oceans."

"It's funny; at the point we left, we had discovered more about the stars from observation than the oceans," Bucky added with a nod.

"What level was your technology at, then?" Jocasta asked.

Cosmo looked pointedly at Bucky for this. "I left earlier than you," she told him.

"Well, one of our best inventors had recently come up with holographic interfaces, but it wasn't commonly accessible to the public. We didn't have interstellar travel of our own, but we had been visited by aliens, and a few humans had made it out into the stars by chance; the two I could name were literally abducted by two different alien groups, but then learned to make their own way once they got out there. We didn't have speeders, either - the hover tech you have now is really fascinating to me. Most of our vehicles ran on internal combustion from fossil fuels." Even Iron Man's repulsors had been different and relatively primitive, compared to those used now.

Jocasta looked shocked at that. Bucky had read just enough to know that most technology in the galaxy now was run on power cells that used exotic elements and a safe form of fusion - it was close to what little he'd heard of arc reactor tech, but used elements he had never heard of before.

The only people who still used combustion fuel were Mandalorians, and even then it was only for personal jetpacks (that reminded him strongly of Falcon's, in the images he'd seen... just minus the wings), not for larger vehicles. And even then  it wasn't derived from fossils, but a kind of artificial chemical compound.

So yeah, it made sense that the idea of using fossil fuels for everyday vehicles would be shocking to her.

She shook her head, and turned her attention to Cosmo, asking, "You said you left earlier? How?"

"I was sent up on one of our first attempts to explore space," she explained. "I was not... sentient at the time; I was altered by an alien scientist who found my vessel drifting, and saved me."

"They threw an animal up into space, and didn't have a plan to bring her back," Bucky sneered with disgust. "If that alien hadn't found you..."

"Yes, I do resent that a little," Cosmo admitted, with a bow of her head. "But it was also an important step in the progress of space travel. The data my ship sent back proved I was still alive after reaching orbit; something they did not know was safe or possible before."

"And how did you leave the homeworld?" Jocasta asked Bucky.

"By my time, we had a space station in orbit, and peace treaties with multiple alien species. We didn't have interstellar travel, but we were working on plans to colonise either our moon or one of the nearest planets in our system. Aliens were generally welcome on our world, so long as they obeyed our laws. Not all of them did. I was attacked by a group of Kree mercenaries, and the last thing I remember is them rendering me unconscious... then I woke up where Qui-Gon found me."

"Kree?" Jocasta asked, frowning slightly. "I haven't heard of that species before."

"From a planet called Hala," Bucky answered. "We're not sure how or why - there were theories about some progenitor race seeding planets, to encourage convergent evolution, but we had no proof - but they very closely resembled humans, except some of them had blue skin, and some of them had really pale, almost white eyes."

"What other species did you know of at the time?"

"Uh... Asgardians; looked human, but could live for up to six thousand years and were ten times our strength on average. Jotuns; eight to ten feet tall at least, blue skin, red eyes, and horns like Zabrak. Uh..."

"Look, it was a big galaxy, even back then," Cosmo cut him off. "And I had been out in it more than him. Give me a few days, I will write up a more comprehensive list."

"Thanks," Bucky told her. He really had felt put on the spot about the types of aliens they'd known of back then. That was not his area of expertise at all.

"Would it be reasonable to ask that each of you write out a report on what you know of the history of your planet?" Jocasta asked hopefully. "As detailed as you can, from as far back as you can."

"I guess," Bucky said.

"We can work together to make one big report, if it helps?" Cosmo offered, and Bucky was relieved for it, because he didn't want to miss anything important.

"Of course, that would be very helpful," Jocasta bowed her head. "Thank you very much for your time. Both of you."

---

Anakin was still learning his way around the Jedi Temple, having been assigned a room in the Initiates' quarters and given his first set of Jedi robes. He was expected to wear his robes to classes, or formal events, but was allowed to keep the new clothes his mom had given him, as well. The robes were made up of more layers of thinner, slightly stiffer material - still far softer and more comfortable than his slave clothes - and he had already gotten into the habit of wearing one of his 'ordinary' shirts underneath them, for warmth.

He had only been a Jedi Initiate for two days, now, and he had only attended proper classes on the second of those. His first 'class' had been a one-on-one meeting with his new 'clan leader'; a Mon Calamari woman named Rumna, to assess his knowledge and skill, so they could know what he already knew and what he still needed to learn.

Then he had been put in a Basic reading and writing class with five-year-olds, a Force-training class with children his own age, and a mechanics class with Padawans in their late teens. He felt a bit of resentment about the first of those, but he knew it was because he had been raised only knowing how to speak Basic (as well as Huttese and Binary), not read it. He also shared a philosophy class with Cosmo and those same five-year-olds.

While they were free - and encouraged - to practise anything they wanted or needed from their classes, outside actual class times, there were half-day classes on Centaxday, and a full day free on Benduday. Today, being Benduday, and he hadn't been given any 'homework' yet from his first day, he found himself aimlessly wandering the hallways, sort of exploring, sort of learning his way around.

He noticed a lot of big rooms on this level labelled as 'salles', with kids practising with lightsabers visible through the open doors, a door labelled as 'showers', a whole load of meditation rooms... then he turned another corner, and there was another meditation room, but he could sort of feel a familiar warm presence in there. Cosmo: she projected really loud, even though he hadn't learned yet to properly sense other Jedi, he could feel her echoing emotions with no difficulty.

He paused just before the doorway, when he heard Qui-Gon's voice.

"Obi-Wan tells me people on your world, in your time, had some understanding of the Force?"

"Yes," Bucky answered, and Anakin peered around the door in time to see Cosmo nod as well. The three were sitting on meditation cushions, in a little circle, in the middle of the room. Anakin could only see Qui-Gon and Cosmo from the sides, at this angle, while Bucky was facing the door almost directly... and while Bucky spotted him immediately, he didn't do anything to let the others know. "Well, our general knowledge was of an energy that existed all around us and could be manipulated by those with the skill."

"What more can you tell me about how your people interpreted it?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Well, it differs from the Jedi beliefs," Bucky admitted. "We called it magic, for a start, and we tended to view it as a potentially dangerous tool, more than anything else. A lot of our fictions, written by people who didn't know anything about real magic, had ideas about some magic being only for good or evil, like the Jedi histories describe the light and dark... but actual practitioners, or those who had encountered real magic, didn't think of the magic itself in those terms at all. Rather, we counted the actions and intentions of the wielder as good or bad. I read about Sith lightning, and my first thought was that one of our world's greatest heroes was well-known for wielding lightning."

Anakin hadn't known lightning was meant to be bad. He hadn't really been given any history to study yet. Qui-Gon, meanwhile, looked shocked at the idea, and Anakin guessed he could see why: if you'd been taught something was automatically bad, and someone else came along and said, no, just the ones you've heard about so far were bad... it'd be pretty shocking, he was sure... and that's basically exactly what Bucky was doing here.

"And you know my opinion of the Jedi mind trick," Bucky continued, bitterness in his tone at that. Then he went back into that softer tone of voice that story-tellers used. "There were two factions I'm aware of who both had a deep understanding of magic and used it quite regularly: Asgardian mages, and the Masters of the Mystic Arts. Both groups used the term 'Sorcerer' commonly, but their magic was very different. Asgardian magic generates a green light, varying from pale acid green to deep rich forest green. I've only seen it used once, during a fight, but the witch in question explained that much to me. That's kind of all I know about them. The Masters of the Mystic Arts' magic generated orange-coloured sparks, always the same shade. One of them tried to teach me, for a while, but I never got very far."

"Well, that's understandable, with such a low midichlorian count," Qui-Gon observed, but Bucky shook his head.

"No, one of the best Sorcerers of our time stared out absolutely blind to magic, and worked his way up with diligent study and a lot  of practice. Theoretically, anyone can learn, I just didn't have the patience to stick with it. Not that I can't be patient, but I kind of figured; we had a Sorcerer on our team, so why did I need to learn it as well? I'm beginning to regret that now."

Qui-Gon blinked in shock at that. "That's... quite a difference, I see."

"So I don't have to keep saying 'the Masters of the Mystic Arts' every time I distinguish between them, they called their type of magic 'Eldritch', while the Asgardians called theirs 'Seidr'."

"One of the Ravagers used Eldritch magic," Cosmo put in. "Bright gold rune circles as shields. Very powerful; better than those that my suit generates."

"While Sorcerers can, in general, manipulate things around them just like the Jedi can, the laws of physics state - or stated in our time? - that you can't create or destroy matter or energy, only convert between the two states."

"Yes, this is still considered true," Qui-Gon nodded.

"Well, Eldritch and Seidr magics got around that by pulling energy from parallel dimensions. I was never shown how with Seidr, but for Eldritch, you have to picture our entire four-dimensional reality as a plane in two dimensions... then take a single step down to the plane below. Only the one, because further down there are some very  dangerous things that it could be outright apocalyptic to disturb. Then you can draw the energy out and use it to generate shields, or weapons, or complex spells."

As he said it, he held his hands up, flat, palms down, one below the other, to clearly illustrate that the Eldritch energy came from that lower one. Anakin frowned at it thoughtfully. He'd never heard of orange sparking magic before, even from all those offworld stories from spacers... but he had heard of green light. Tatooine had a story about green light; a flash on the horizon as the suns set. The colour of vivid plant leaves like you'd only see offworld... the colour of Qui-Gon's lightsaber. It was a portent; good luck for slaves, bad luck for owners. Anakin had never seen it, but he'd always wanted to.

Anakin found himself thinking that he would very much like his lightsaber to be that colour. To go back to the Outer Rim and help free the slaves on other planets. To be a beacon, blessed by that portent.

"Fascinating," Qui-Gon was saying to Bucky's explanation of magic on his world. Anakin didn't follow all that much of it, really, but he was still interested.

"With the right tools, Eldritch Sorcerers could do all kinds of amazing things. Their favourite was portals."

"Portals?" Qui-Gon stammered over the word, shocked. "That- that's not really possible, is it?"

"As I was told it, to fold real space requires insane amounts of power; a supernova might not be enough... but Eldritch portals fold another plane they call the Mirror, and it's a lot  easier, somehow. You'd need a tool I don't have, and a lot of training and practice, none of which I was able to get through, but those Sorcerers were able to just visualise where they wanted to go, cast the spell through the tool, and a circle of gold sparks appeared that you could step through to your destination. If I had that tool and the knowledge to use it, I could get to Tatooine in a single step, from here. I've seen an experienced Sorcerer conjure enough of them simultaneously to bring an army through. I was part of that army."

Qui-Gon was shaking his head in absolute shock, but Anakin could feel somehow that Bucky was telling the truth.

Cosmo nodded slowly as she listened. "I was not there, but I witnessed some of the army departing from Knowhere. This was before the Collector's return, while it was a free society. The Ravagers joined the fight; Quill persuaded them."

"Was this... to fight Thanos?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Yes," both said at once.

After a long moment to process the shock of this revelation, that portals to just walk from planet to planet were a thing back then, Qui-Gon asked, "If you had instruction in accessing this Eldritch energy, could you teach me?"

Bucky pulled a face, in a way Anakin interpreted as 'I don't think I can', but he said, "I can try."

Anakin listened to the lesson intently, having stepped into the room and sat down against the wall beside the door. Reach down like the Jedi do with the Force, but not in real space. In the idea of space between realities. One level, only. Below is really  dangerous.

He watched as Qui-Gon tried it, and seemed to fail. They kept at it for a while, and Anakin began to try it, as well.

After maybe half an hour of fruitless effort - only really keeping at it the way he did because Qui-Gon was, too - Anakin conjured a shimmering swirling ball of purple smoke-like energy.

"No, put it back!" Cosmo barked, racing over to him. "It is not red, red would be worse, but you went too deep! Put it back!"

Anakin panicked for a second, then shoved the energy back down, the same way he had pulled it up, and it disappeared.

Cosmo sniffed around the floor, attentively for a moment, then nodded slowly. "It went back. It's sealed off again. Good."

"I'm sorry," Anakin said quietly. "I didn't even mean to overhear, I just-"

"No, no, it's okay," Bucky said gently, joining Cosmo at his side, and kneeling down so they were closer to the same level. "It's a common first-time mistake for those with the innate talent for it. The one who tried to teach me said he did the exact same thing, his first time... but it took him two days, rather than half an hour. Just... when you reach down, don't go so far. It should be the very first thing you feel when you sense beyond our reality."

Anakin nodded, and cautiously tried again. This time it happened almost immediately, and the ball of energy was sparking orange-gold, like Bucky had described it.

Qui-Gon was gaping at him with utter shock, but it quickly turned into a bright grin. "Amazing," he whispered softly.

"Wizard," Anakin agreed.

Bucky laughed. "You know, Wizard was another word for Sorcerer, in our time."

Anakin looked up at him dubiously. "It just means really great or awesome, now."

"Well, now you can use it for really great or awesome magic ."

Anakin giggled at that, and the ball of sparking gold light wavered.

Cosmo bobbed her head, and the energy moved with it. "Throw the ball!" she all but shouted. Bucky gestured that he may as well... so he did. Threw it across the room, using the same sort of willpower he had to make it appear - like the game Rumna had shown him in his first lesson, called 'push-feather' - to push it away from him.

Cosmo raced after the ball, and returned with it hovering a couple of centimetres from her nose, and she moved as if she was really touching it, like it was a real ball. She brought it right back to him, and hovered it up so he could use the Force to take it back.

"You think you can do that, Cosmo?" Bucky asked, grinning. "I think you'd look really scary with a pair of Eldritch whips as weapons."

"I feel like this is a joke, like those Quill tells and I do not get," she replied dubiously.

"So you've never heard of Dungeons and Dragons ," Bucky admitted, with a shrug and a grin, as if others understanding the joke really wasn't important. "It'd still be... wizard."

---

Chapter Text

---

Reports from Naboo came back within three days... or cycles, as they were more commonly called now.

On top of the history lessons - which went both ways - Bucky had already begun to quietly catch up on the basic things like this. There were local cycles for individual planetary rotations, and the standard cycle, based on Coruscant as the centre of the Republic. Coruscant's orbit was also the measure of the standard year... and this planet seemed to be extremely close to Earth for both cycle and year duration.

Hours, minutes, seconds, these had somehow managed not to change, but they measured against Coruscant's standard cycle, now. Close enough as made no difference to Bucky's ability to count time. Meanwhile, weeks were now five days long instead of seven, and there were seven of those shorter weeks in a month. Ten months to a year, and holidays were their own thing, separate from the normal measure, so as to add the odd numbers up to make the full year.

It was as if Christmas didn't actually count as real time, but was in fact five days taken out on its own... which, to be fair, was how it had always felt , anyway. The three holiday weeks like that corresponded closely to the two solstices and the fall equinox, on Coruscant, with three other one-day holidays; one for the spring equinox, one for the anniversary of the founding of the Republic, and one celebrating species-diversity and cooperation. Other planets had their own holidays as well, but the Galactic Calendar was centred on Coruscant.

It wasn't a subject Bucky usually considered, and he only really did so now to be able to better blend in in this new society, but he found it interesting just how little had really changed about the way people celebrated the passing of time around them.

The Trade Federation had been caught in the act of fleeing Naboo, and several of their ships had been fully loaded up with valuables. Art and luxury goods from the capital city of Theed, plasma stolen from the mines... and even wood and other natural resources taken from the swathe that the invasion force had cut through wild forests and countryside, as it swarmed across Gungan territory.

The Judicial Forces had ensured that all stolen resources were returned to Theed, and at Queen Amidala's orders those taken from Gungan lands would be offered either to be returned, and/or reparations made in the form of whatever resources the Gungans themselves found most suitable (within reason of course). Somehow, in this process, Jar-Jar Binks managed to get appointed as an ambassador between the Naboo humans and the Gungans.

Food and medical aid had been sent to the civilian populations, from both the Judicial ships and a private relief convoy sent by Alderaan.

The leader of the invasion, one Nute Gunray, had been arrested and was on his way to Coruscant to stand trial for violations of three different war-crimes accords. Which was impressive, given they were officially at peace.

Bucky and Cosmo had completed their citizenship paperwork, in the meantime, but were still staying at the Jedi Temple, due to Cosmo's interest in learning Jedi philosophy, and Bucky's interest in keeping an eye on their prisoner. Not to mention the friends he was beginning to make here; Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Dooku, and Anakin were all beginning to grow on him, in the same way that Sam had done in spite of Bucky's best intentions to keep the trouble he represented out of the man's life... and later, the Young Avengers, who had somehow managed to both look up to him where he thought he didn't deserve it, and hold their own strong opinions that had rubbed off on him as well.

These four Jedi - for that was what Anakin was as well, now - were all a little off from the rest of those he had met here. Obi-Wan tried to hide it under a mask of good behaviour, but none of them seemed to truly hold to the dogma that Bucky had been learning had dug itself deeper into the Order over the centuries.

Dooku openly resented it, Qui-Gon blithely did his own thing, and Obi-Wan clung to Qui-Gon in a way that looked almost desperate at times. Anakin, not indoctrinated from infancy, was his own sort of brilliant disruption, too. Three days, and the mechanics all knew him on sight and slightly feared him. His use of Eldritch magic had literally caused Yoda to jump when he saw it, and the other children seemed drawn to him, for his open joy in childish things they had long been taught to phase out sooner rather than later. With Cosmo at Anakin's side in one of the classes, the teachers had reportedly been unable to handle the random outbursts of simple glee  at harmless things.

And now, the Sith assassin was recovered enough to be interrogated, and Bucky made his way down to the containment level with Jedi Master Windu. He waited in the observation room, where he would be unseen by those in the holding area, while Windu entered the prisoner's cell.

"Ah, you're awake," Windu declared. The Sith struggled against his bonds, but they held fast. "Do you have a name?"

The man merely snarled bitterly, and kept trying to free himself.

"Hmm. Our, ah, experts... believe you were sent to assassinate Queen Amidala. A mere pawn in a political game," Windu said calmly. "If this is so, we could provide you with protection in exchange for information. All you have to tell me is who sent you."

"You have no idea what you're dealing with, Jedi!" the man spat out hatefully.

Windu ignited the red lightsaber in his hand. "Sith, right? We know a lot about the Sith. So, who sent you?"

"My Master will destroy you all!"

"Not if you tell us their plans... but they likely will try to kill you for getting caught," Windu pointed out. "As I said, we could arrange your protection."

"Nowhere is safe from my Master's wrath, you will all perish!"

"Hmm, well, we tried diplomacy," Windu said with a sigh, as he turned away from the Sith. Bucky took his obvious cue, a little surprised by how quickly Windu conceded, and stepped out of the viewing room, and around into the holding area.

He smiled with false brightness, and waved at the man, as he stepped into view. He saw the Sith cringe slightly, but it was a very minor reaction, given the beating he'd received from Bucky.

"Remember, we want him alive, when you're done with him," Windu said pointedly.

"Do I have a limit on how many pieces?" Bucky asked brightly.

Windu paused, glanced back at their prisoner, then shook his head. "No." Bucky knew this wasn't true, as they had discussed this beforehand, but the Jedi Master was a surprisingly good liar.

The door hissed closed behind Windu as ominously as it was able, which really wasn't much, but Bucky would take the points where he could get them... and he stepped over until he was standing right in front of their restrained prisoner.

"So where do we begin?" Bucky asked, with all the false cheer of the sort of psychopaths who used to torture him for the fun of it. "The other arm? A leg? An eye?"  He grinned a little brighter. "You went for my eyes, I think I'll start there. You'll be a far less valuable asset to your Master without those."

The man scoffed, but Bucky saw some fear flicker at the idea of becoming less valuable that way. Ah, so he did see himself as an asset, then. "The Republic doesn't torture prisoners."

"I'm not working for the Republic," Bucky laughed. "And by the time I'm done with you, you'll be praying for the mercy of your Master, whoever they are."

Bucky leaned over the prisoner where he was restrained in a seated position, getting right into his personal space, lowered himself to eye-level, so he was only barely avoiding touching the man's knees and chest, in a way that some might misinterpret as intimate, but he knew - first hand from the other side of it - was truly terrifying... as he reached with his metal hand for the side of the man's face. The prisoner jerked his head away, but Bucky got a good hold on him. "Please, do fight me. It makes it hurt you more."

Bucky's metal fingers were millimetres away from the prisoner's terrified, darting eyeball, but he could see that the man was holding on to some thread of resolve, trying to call his bluff.

"You really think I won't, don't you? The Jedi are fast, and I know they're watching me very closely, because the last time they left me unattended I stole a planet... but they're not close or fast enough to stop me now, you know. Hmm... but those eyes are a pretty colour. Maybe I'll start somewhere else."

It was a line one HYDRA scientist had used on him. Threatened to replace his eye with a cybernetic, and 'change her mind' by calling his eyes pretty. The difference was, Bucky really was going to remove a part of this man if he didn't cooperate soon. He didn't want to jump right to it, or the Jedi might get upset, but he wasn't bluffing either.

"Your mission was to assassinate Queen Amidala, wasn't it?" he asked, shifting his position back just a little, so he could see the prisoner's whole face now, and his metal hand clamped down a little too hard where he had previously broken the man's shoulder. "Well, that was a spectacular failure."

He tilted his head to one side, meeting the man's eyes, blandly gazing into that hateful glower. It was interesting; Bucky had come across many monsters (most of them human) and victims before, but this man wasn't really reminding him of any of them, particularly directly.

"What does he do when you fail? Beatings? Whippings? Electrocution?" A minute flinch. A correct guess. "Ah, that's a good one." And no protest on the gendered pronoun, either. Likely the Master was  a man, then. Not guaranteed, but fairly likely.

"It doesn't look like he's cut parts off; I lost an arm the second time I failed." Another tiny flinch. Either there had been a very serious threat, or there had been mutilation. But there was also the recognition in his eyes of what Bucky had really said there, as they flickered to the metal arm for an instant... that he had been someone's weapon, too. "He has cut parts off? I don't see the scarring, what are you missing? Do I need to strip you to find out?"

A spiteful snarl, and he tried to headbutt Bucky.

"Oh, was it the horns? Were they covered before?" Another flinch. It was almost like holding a full two-way conversation, the way he reacted to every correctly guessed trauma. "He stripped the skin? I mean, nice new weapons, but ouch, I guess. Did they get infected or anything?"

"Why must you prattle like a fool!"

"To get you to speak. Thanks, by the way."

Another snarl.

Bucky laughed. "I know what you are. A tool, a weapon, to be discarded when you're no longer of use. Did you imagine you were valued? Did he ever really make it feel like you were?"

Now he was avoiding eye contact. A delusion of care from the Master, but he knew he was fooling himself.

"Doesn't that burn? Wouldn't you rather spite him for that than us? I'm going to keep talking until either I get bored and maim you a bit, or you tell me the things I want to hear, you know... and it's going to take me a long time to get bored, either talking or inflicting pain. It's so easy to paint your abuser's face on someone else... I'm sure you know that."

The prisoner closed his eyes, frowning, for a moment... but then glared up at him coldly. "You won't break me."

"I will. Every bone, if I have to. Then hang you up on strings and make you dance, so you have to hear that crunching sound of everything moving wrong inside, with every step."

This time, his cringe wasn't a trauma flashback, but revulsion. A familiar sound, then... but probably not one directly associated with his Master's mistreatment of him. It made sense. HYDRA had never broken Bucky's bones either. Why cause lasting damage to an effective weapon, when discipline-through-pain can be administered so easily by other means?

"But I'd prefer to make an ally of you. You got caught, and I doubt your Master will trust you to keep your mouth shut... and doing so only lets him have his way, anyway. Your days are numbered the second I let you go to the legitimate judicial system... but with me, you have a chance to turn back against him. Hurt him like he hurt you. Every little bit of pain, repaid in full. Don't you want that?"

He scoffed. "You cannot win against him!"

Confirmation of gender. They were getting somewhere. "I beat you easily enough. I like my chances."

The thoughtful expression seemed more resigned. "You are right. He will kill me either way... so what is the worth of my silence?"

"So do you have a name?" Bucky asked. He knew his own answer, at the height of his brainwashing, would have been 'no'. His answer to 'What is your name?' would have been outright confusion. There was no self, only the mission. Which was why he chose to word the question this way.

"Darth Maul, apprentice to Darth Sidious." Somehow, that felt like a relief. Not only to get information, to win this little round of interrogation, but the very fact this man even had a name.

"And Sidious' plan is...?" he asked.

Maul sighed, looking up to meet his gaze coldly. "To turn the Republic against itself, and slip in through the cracks to take over."

"How?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know why Queen Amidala?"

Maul shook his head slightly. "I assume that she did - or plans to do - something that interferes with my Master's plan... but that is only my best guess."

"His exact words, when giving the order?" Bucky asked. The number of times HYDRA had dropped important intel that way, if only someone had been able to extract it from their Soldier, was honestly shocking. Faith in their own position of power was many a megalomaniac's downfall.

" 'I have a new task for you, my Apprentice. I wish the Queen of Naboo to be eliminated; her entire entourage, no witnesses. Do not allow yourself to be seen.' " The quote mimicked a slightly different intonation and accent, but it was similar enough to Maul's own that he wasn't entirely sure if it was an accurate rendition, or if Maul was a poor impersonator.

Or... "How long did your Master have you?" he asked softly.

"Since I was five standard."

So... there was a good chance that was an accurate impersonation after all, if he was quoting the man who all-but raised him. Even starting as a grown adult, Bucky's accent had turned to match his Russian handlers within only a few years of his captivity.

"Would you be able to identify him?"

Maul shook his head. "I have never seen his entire face, he always wore a hooded cloak that concealed his eyes. He may be human; pale skin like yours. Perhaps one point eight metres tall, though he slouches to hide it." He shook his head once more, almost violently, a sneer and a scoff poorly masking fear of the subject matter. "Or he could be a changeling for all I know!" It was easy to tell by his tone and body-language that he was truly terrified of this 'Master' of his.

"I believe you," Bucky said quietly. "I was kept in the dark, as well, when I was someone else's weapon. But I cut my strings and slaughtered my tormentors... and I want everyone like them to feel the same pain I put them through."

A faint smile twitched on Maul's face. "I like the sound of that."

Bucky stepped back, and pressed one of the release buttons on Maul's restrains. Only to free his unbroken arm. He held out his left hand, and Maul took it with his own. He could feel the attempt to test his grip, and returned it just a little too firmly himself. Maul winced, but his smile broadened.

"The enemy of my enemy is my ally," Bucky told him firmly. "Even if only in this one fight."

---

"You let him out!" Mace shouted, racing into the holding area... only to stop when he realised that the ray shield was still up. Barnes was in the holding cell with Maul, but Maul was still stuck in there. In fact, only his left arm was free, and Barnes was quietly reapplying the restraints as Mace arrived.

"Uh, no?" Barnes said. "How stupid do I look?"

Mace groaned, exasperated. And he saw the side-eye Maul gave, as if he were a second away from sarcastically answering Barnes' question, as well.

"What? I assume he's got the same powers as Jedi; I was prepared," Barnes insisted.

"You are dangerous and reckless!"

"And I get results," Barnes retorted, stepping up to meet his accusation, as close to the ray shield as he could. It was undeniable. He did, in fact, get results. He had freed Tatooine, advised the Queen of Naboo on political strategy, and now successfully interrogated a Sith Apprentice.

Mace rubbed at his temples, trying to will away the impending headache.

"Come on, I didn't even pull out any fingernails, that's usually step one," Barnes grumbled. "Even the tracksuit mafia do the fingernails before the talking."

Mace saw the way Maul scowled at that, and felt himself deeply uncomfortable with the realisation that he and this Sith were on exactly the same page about Barnes' attitude. It was just outright inappropriate.

Mace turned to Maul, now. "Our healer already repaired most of your internal injuries, and set your bones - though we may need to redo that shoulder, now."

"Oops," Barnes said with a deadpan tone and a hint of a smirk that showed not only was he unrepentant, but that he found Mace's outrage at his methods downright amusing.

"I was under the impression that the Nightbrothers all had exposed horns, but if you wish for medical aid with them as well?"

He sensed an intense wave of embarrassment and fury from Maul. "No," the Sith growled through gritted teeth.

"Wait, was I wrong about the horns?" Barnes asked.

Maul glowered bitterly at both of them, before bowing his head and admitting. "It is a sacred right of the Nightbrothers to strip the skin from our horns, and there is a proper maintenance procedure to keep them that way. My Master denied me that maintenance long enough for it to fully heal, and then-" Another vicious snarl. "It is a blasphemy against my heritage, and he intended it simply to break me from my past!"

Silence echoed in the wake of that revelation, and Barnes spoke up before Mace could fully wrap his mind around it. "What do you need for the maintenance? I'm sure we can get it for you."

Maul looked up at Barnes with utter shock, eyes wide, as if this care for his cultural beliefs and practices was the very last thing he expected. He then proceeded to list a few simple medical instruments, and the fact he would need both hands free. His voice was cold and hollow, his words rote, telling that he did not actually expect the offer to be followed through on.

"And how often do you need to do it? When was it last done?" Barnes persisted.

"Every standard month," Maul answered, in that same hollow tone. "And it was last done a ten-day before my assault on the Queen of Naboo."

"Okay, so we have four and a half weeks," Barnes looked at Mace pointedly, before returning his focus to Maul. "I'm sure you can spend that time proving to us that we don't need to keep your arms bound indefinitely, and we can acquire the tools you need."

Mace nodded slowly. "Yes, we can certainly acquire those tools."

Maul snorted, derisive. He clearly heard Mace's reluctance there. He then turned his gaze back to Barnes, asking dubiously. "Why do you pretend to care?"

"Because caring is what decent people do," Barnes answered simply. It disconcerted Mace that there was no immediate denial at the idea he was only pretending. Perhaps he was  only pretending to care... or perhaps he simply knew the denial would fall on deaf ears. Either way, it still felt wrong not to at least say something about that part of it. "And if you must assign an ulterior motive, I'd also really like to undo as much of your Master's hold over you as we can, as well. It will make you a better person, and a better ally."

Maul looked away, frowning in a way that suggested to Mace that he was seriously considering those words.

Mace wasn't sure he could believe that Maul could be redeemed, could become a true ally. This was a Sith they were dealing with. Still, he was impressed by the thought and genuine compassion Barnes was putting into this, especially considering the violence and threats he had started out with.

It was unnerving, as if he sincerely felt that he understood how to turn such hate back into something kinder. As if he believed it from experience, somehow.

---

Count Dooku was utterly incensed. He didn't think he had ever felt rage like this before. It was betrayal of the rawest and most bitter kind, and he hated  its source fiercely. It didn't even feel Dark. This was righteous fury, against a greater injustice than any he had chafed at before.

He was entirely disgusted and insulted at the fact that he had taken comfort  from the illusion of understanding offered by this Lord Sidious, only to have been manipulated  into endangering his friends, his family, and potentially a large swathe of the galaxy. He had been assured that these missions would help undermine the corruption that riddled the institutions of the Republic, not merely further some egotistical tyrant's personal goals. He had been willing to turn directly against the Jedi to do what was right ... but this was not right.

These new studies Master Yoda had 'recommended', of the ancient Sith... the understanding he was coming to, of their methods. Of their nature . Even those who had actively aided Jedi, like Marr and Wrath; they were still untrustworthy at best, and outright monsters at worst. Wrath had been an absolute personification of cruelty, and only chose to work with the heroes against Vitiate for his own self-interest; to save his own skin against the greater threat.

And this current Sith Lord...

The Trade Federation must have been instructed - used - by Sidious, he was sure of this. The way Viceroy Gunray's recorded voice had echoed through the Senate Dome in Queen Amidala's testimony, promising that the Senate would take his side in an unjust invasion. And they had also attempted to murder Qui-Gon and his apprentice! Those snivelling cowards would never dare make so bold a move without direct orders, Dooku was quite certain of that.

Which meant, Sidious had ordered Qui-Gon's death . Qui-Gon Jinn, Dooku's apprentice, the closest he had ever felt to fatherly pride and love. He was aware of his attachment there; the Council would not approve, but he found he didn't very much care about the Council's opinion on the matter. He cared about Qui-Gon.

And now, Sidious had sent him a new message. Was trying to suggest, subtly, feigning concern for Dooku's safety, that Sifo-Dyas should also be 'eliminated' , for the good of the plan . Sifo-Dyas, who was like a brother to Dooku. Somewhat more distant now, but still that connection - that attachment  - ran deep enough that he would have struggled with the suggestion, even without these new revelations.

How could the Council neglect and deride those types of love, when they might have been the only thing holding Dooku back, giving him pause at Sidious' twisted plan  for so long as he had?

He had been led - led by the nose, like a blind bantha - to believe that this plan was for a better, brighter future, free of the corruption that plagued the Republic. Now, he thought, it sounded more like a darker, colder future, free of even the pretence of benevolence that was the Republic itself; ruled by something far worse.

So instead of following Sidious' 'advice' , Dooku called his old friend up, and warned him that someone was seeking to harm him. He told Sifo-Dyas to finish his mission on Felucia with all due caution, and return to see him at the Temple at the absolute earliest convenience.

Dooku wasn't sure exactly what he would do, once Sifo-Dyas returned. He feared the repercussions of admitting his involvement with Sidious. On the other hand, he now felt the very pressing need to do all in his power to thwart, to spite, to stop  this monster that he had inadvertently aided... before it was too late.

In the meantime, Dooku knew that if he did not act immediately, Viceroy Gunray would be eliminated. Silenced.

He didn't want  to save the being who had ordered Qui-Gon's death, no matter how obviously that order came from above... but he wanted Gunray's testimony, to protect himself from scrutiny. Oh, of course, he could  walk into the Courts and declare all he knew, but who would act upon it... beyond locking Dooku himself in a holding cell, so that Sidious could have him  eliminated instead?

So as soon as news of Gunray's capture came through, Dooku took off to intercept and join the Judicial Convoy. Maybe even fake Gunray's assassination, so Sidious doesn't think he's turned, just yet... so the Sith Lord might think he's still making himself useful?

It would do, as a plan, for now. He could think more on it, en route.

---

Shmi stepped out of the Senate Dome, having just sat through her first full session as an interim Senator, after her successful petition and presentation for Tatooine's membership in the Republic. That first day had been daunting, to say the least, and this second one was not much better. Queen Amidala and her handmaidens had helped her prepare, but in the end she had been on her own, in the centre of that vast space, watched by not only the hundreds of delegates present, but potentially trillions of other beings viewing through the holonet.

The debate had been swift; the arrangement she sought was that Republic would expand its border around Tatooine, to keep the Hutts at bay, and the people would abide by and internally enforce the laws of the Republic. This was exactly the arrangement she was given by the Senate, with the stipulation that any more direct dealings with other worlds or organisations could be discussed later in more detail.

The Senate agreed to divert one of the three heavy cruisers of the Judicial fleet that had been sent to Naboo, to Tatooine, as the others returned to Coruscant, to guard the new border against opportunistic criminals or Hutt reprisals. The Trade Federation and its allies were too busy dealing with the fallout of their blunder over Naboo to bother trying to push for taxes or the like, which was good as Tatooine was still seen as 'poor'.

Shmi quietly did not mention either the first six million wupiupi taken from Jabba's palace, or the news that a further seventeen million wupiupi had been gathered up from the Hutt palaces by the people since her departure. Even if that had to be melted and recast into Republic ingots (a slight devaluation, as compared to a straight trade, according to the bank she had visited a few days ago), it would be a significant fortune to put towards improvements to all settlements across the planet.

The message from Jira had included the fact that, while some individuals had tried to just leave with what stolen Hutt treasure they had been able to pocket, the shipyards had been shut down to prevent such theft, and through a hastily cobbled-together democratic process it was agreed that this money would be better off pooled for a new government to spend on essential imports such as food and building materials, to improve everyone's  standard of living, instead of being taken in by only a few as the Hutts had done.

It turned out, direct comparison to Hutts was enough of an offence to convince most people to cave in and stop trying to take more than their share. Threat of incarceration did the rest. And the average standard of living, with the planned improvements being discussed by experienced workers and labourers, was going to be far  higher than even the most well-off traders had been, before.

Progress had also been made on a new system for their budding democracy; for at least the first decade (to be voted on every decade until it was phased out only by unanimous agreement), the ruling council - voted for democratically, naturally - would need to include equal representation of those who were free and those who were slaves before the revolution. Any deadlock this even number might generate would be resolved by a Jedi or similar trusted third-party.

Today's Senate session had been about assigning new budgets, and more than half of the Senators present had attempted to request pieces of the funding for their own worlds. Organisations like the Banking Clan were excluded from receiving these funds; this was for planetary governments with particular projects. Projects like renovating infrastructure, and the like. Favour was being shown to those with detailed plans already in place.

Queen Amidala had put in for a portion of the funding, despite lacking a coherent plan beyond 'rebuilding in the wake of the Trade Federation disaster', and been granted it without any of the hesitation or debate shown to others.

While it was theoretically true that Tatooine could benefit as well, they already had the money from the deposed Hutt Daimyos, and so Shmi had politely refused the suggestion, made by Alderaan, that she might want to request a portion of this particular session's funding offers.

She carefully and politely stated, "While the people of Tatooine greatly appreciate the generous suggestion made by the Senator for Alderaan, we feel at this time that we do not have a suitable project fully planned for such funding, and it is far too early for us, as a new member of the great Galactic Republic, to be digging our hands into the coffers. We would prefer to prove our worth and our ability to pull our own weight, rather than asking for handouts, if it pleases the other Representatives."

That had earned her quite a few polite laughs and looks of surprise.

"The Senator for Alderaan acknowledges the position of the Senator for Tatooine, and hopes that in times of need, your people will be willing to accept aid with all the good grace that you have shown today in putting me in my place," the man answered with a bow, and a startlingly good-natured smirk.

Another round of light laughter. Shmi had been pleasantly surprised to see that it was possible for (at least some of) these stuffy Senators to have a good time when they tried.

The most recent message Shmi had received from Tatooine, which she was just viewing now as she left the Senate session, was news that the Judicial ship had arrived not one moment too soon; just in time to block a small Hutt warship approaching the system. When the message was relayed to the Hutt vessel, of Republic expansion to include Tatooine, the Hutt who commanded the ship then requested Gardulla and Jabba's bodies be returned to the Cartel. This was arranged, and surprisingly peacefully so. The Hutt warship left, after receiving the two corpses (and refusing to also take any of the other criminals' bodies), with not even a hint of expectation for the treasure they would usually demand.

Shmi had a sinking feeling the Cartel would seek some kind of restitution through other means, and that thought boded ill.

She checked her private comm - kept separate from the one she was using for political business - to find an audio message from Anakin, saying that he was doing very well in his Force studies, but struggling with the basic reading and writing classes he had been placed in.

The Jedi strongly discouraged parental attachment, but they had not forbidden it. After a talk with Anakin's clan leader, an agreement was reached that brief 'I'm okay' sort of messages were perfectly fine, especially this soon after his acceptance into the Order. A period of adjustment and adaptation, for them both.

She messaged him back, to let him know what had happened on Tatooine, as it was all good news, then set off for the senatorial residences. Her own space was close to the Naboo rooms, as they had arrived together and those rooms had been available when she did so. Not only were they in the same building, but she was comfortably able to walk between them. So she stopped there, on her way home.

It was Padmé who answered the door, and by now Shmi was well aware of the girl's true identity. "Ah, Senator Skywalker," Padmé performed a little bow... as a good handmaiden ought, apparently.

Once Shmi was inside, the illusion of rank disappeared, and the other girls gathered around as well. Shmi had grown quite fond of them all. Sabé was the one who most commonly wore the Queen's makeup when Padmé did not, but she was here in a handmaiden gown today, as well. In fact, the only one Shmi couldn't see in the group was Eirtaé, so she was probably in the regalia today.

"I was so pleased to hear your petition was accepted," Padmé said brightly. "It warms my heart to know Tatooine will be protected by the Republic."

Shmi smiled gently at the girl. "There is still much work we must do. I think I may need to return to Tatooine soon, and I was hoping perhaps that I could ask for an advisor to assist; either an emissary from your staff, or even one of your girls if they could be spared?" She let her gaze sweep over the handmaidens. "You are all so very savvy with this whole political game, and it is quite new to many of our people."

Padmé nodded, glancing at the handmaidens. "I think, it would be best if we sent an emissary. We can present it as trade discussions of some kind, and if we have no common trade to arrange, simply say negotiations fell through. It would be better for both our images, when it comes to the more... predatory of the Senate representatives. You may also wish to seek similar relations with Alderaan; they are a very well-known benevolent party, and they have plentiful farms which always overproduce, especially at this time of year."

Shmi nodded slowly. "I understand, and appreciate your subtlety in these matters."

"You're certainly getting the hang of the language, at any rate," Padmé said with a bright smile.

Shmi smiled right back at her. "I do believe I learned from the best."

---

Chapter Text

---

Nute Gunray was expecting Lord Sidious to send someone to free him. He was expecting to be valued highly enough to get out of this alive.

He was not expecting one of the Jedi to approach him, dismiss his guards, and offer him a choice. "You are going to die today, Gunray. You get to choose; the illusion of a natural death-" He held up one hand, and in his palm were a few pills. "-or obvious and very painful assassination." In the Jedi's other hand he held up a lightsaber.

"I- I choose neither!"

"Not an option. Fail to choose, and I will choose for you."

Nute glared bitterly, and held out a hand towards the pills. He tried to put up a fight when the ray-shield dropped, but the Jedi pushed him back with the Force, and dropped the pills on the floor.

"Take them quickly, or I will make this hurt you far more."

Gunray scowled resentfully, and picked up the pills. "Why?"

"This is the least painful option, but you did fail and betray Lord Sidious. I have been sent to rectify that mistake. Permanently."

"I- I do not wish to die," Nute said weakly. It was true. He was terrified of death. Yet, he was even more afraid of the pain that might lead there.

"Poison or lightsaber, Gunray. Choose now."

Hatefully disgusted at the corner he found himself backed into, Nute took the pills. It was better than pain.

Except... his whole body spasmed after only a few moments. Pain wracked through him, and he could not keep track of the eternity it seemed to last as he collapsed in agony.

---

Count Dooku smiled coldly. Of course the coward would pick the easy way out.

There was never a possibility of him refusing, once the alternative was presented harshly enough. The vital-suppressor pills, which Dooku had taken from the Jedi Shadows' storeroom, would give the illusion of death for between three and five hours.

It was such a shame  that there was no way to make the effects of these vital-suppressors painless. There were good reasons why they were so rarely used, and that... "discomfort"  was a significant part of it.

They were only one hour out from Coruscant, now.

Plenty of time to have a professional medic declare Gunray dead. It would not be at all difficult, from there, to hide the 'corpse' away somewhere secure when Judicial turned their backs.

So far, of the Jedi, he only felt that he could trust Qui-Gon and Sifo-Dyas, but that would be enough to begin with. He was also developing a fondness for the young soldier, Barnes. Trust? Not yet, but the man seemed sincere in the opinions he had shared with Dooku, and that was a solid foundation upon which trust might eventually be built, if nothing else.

If Barnes had not been scanned as one hundred percent human, Dooku would question his life-expectancy, as he seemed far older than he looked; both more jaded and experienced than the thirty-odd standard he appeared... and yet, the fundamental core of kindness within him had not been crushed, in spite of what subtle tells and hints told Dooku was likely at least one very brutal trial in his life.

Diamonds are forged under pressure; carbon-bonds realigned to strengthen, by the same weight that would shatter many other elements. And so it often was with people, as well. Combat alone was not often enough to push one as far as Barnes implied he had been pushed, yet it was commonly enough to break many of lesser will.

If they could develop a trust, he would make a valuable ally.

---

It took four standard cycles for Sifo-Dyas to complete his mission on Felucia and return to the Jedi Temple. It had been a trying mission, and communication had been the greatest hurdle. Being constantly on his guard had not helped, but he had seen no evidence of this threat that Dooku had warned him of.

As he passed through the grand entrance hall, he saw a child - an Initiate, he thought, given the age and style of robes - playing with an unfamiliar creature. A golden-furred quadruped, wearing respectable, if expensive, clothing and speaking through a device on her collar.

The game, it seemed, was catch... and the object they threw appeared to be some kind of concentrated ball of golden sparking energy. The carefree laughter of both beings was a bright spot amid the gentle calm of the Temple, the convenient aesthetic of a literal beam of sunlight falling through the high windows overhead, illuminating the pair as they played, only served to solidify that feeling.

As Sifo-Dyas watched the boy, a vision overtook him.

This boy, fully grown, a great beacon of light beyond anything the Jedi Masters could have possibly imagined.
A blazing fire of life and tranquillity that was near blinding.

This same boy, that same age, but the cruellest of heartless monsters.
Blood and hate in his eyes, darkness seeping from every pore.

The two images, side-by-side. Both possible. Both very probable.
Both slowly moving together to overlap, blend, become one.
A perfect balance; open love, peace, and passion perfectly in tune with each other.

True balance in the Force.

Only as the vision passed did the pair spot Sifo-Dyas, still staring in awe at what he had just seen. The boy caught the ball, and it hovered in the air between his hands, not actually touching him, showing him to be highly attuned to the Force to possess such instinctive coordination so young. The pair shared a guilty look, as if they had been caught misbehaving, instead of simply playing.

The ball dissolved into thin air, then the boy put his hands in his sleeves as any proper Jedi would have instructed him, and bowed politely to Sifo-Dyas. "I'm sorry, Master," he said, and Sifo-Dyas felt his discomfort and hesitation on the word, though only in the Force - to look at him, one would never know he felt unhappy about it. "I hope we're not in the way?"

"Oh, not at all," he answered with a warm smile. "That's an interesting ball you were playing with."

The boy bowed his head, looking like he took that as chastisement, when only curiosity had been Sifo-Dyas' intent. "I'm sorry, Master-" that negative emotion in the word again. "-I know I shouldn't use it outside of proper training rooms. I'll be more careful, I promise."

Sifo-Dyas did a quick calculation in his head. "Six months, surely I have not been away so long as to miss a new training technique? The last one they introduced was over a century ago, I'm sure." He pushed the emotions of amusement and friendliness out with his words, to clarify for the boy that he was not upset in any way.

The boy picked up on the emotion immediately, and giggled.

"Oh, but you did!" the quadruped answered, with a quiet yip from her real voice as well, and an air in the Force of friendly jest, yet also truth. "Extra-dimensional energy manipulation is a recently rediscovered, very old field of study that has the Masters all in a tizzy," she laughed. "Some think it to be 'unnatural'-" she lowered her pitch on the word, as if she were quoting someone, but he couldn't quite place who. "-and everyone else just thinks it's a touch too dangerous for the unsupervised eight-year-old Initiate."

"But it's not!" the boy protested. "I've got the hang of it, now, I'm not going too deep like the first time!"

The quadruped turned to Sifo-Dyas, and in a dramatic stage-whisper, she declared, "I'm 'supervising'."

The boy pouted, but was also trying very hard not to grin.

Sifo-Dyas smiled warmly at both of them. "Well, it was lovely to meet you both, but I have to report to the Council about my latest mission, and then catch up with an old friend."

The boy waved brightly as he left. Sometimes, he felt so disappointed by the denials the Jedi Council made about their repression, and their intent to pass it on, generation to generation... but to see such open happiness  in the Temple made his heart warm.

---

Obi-Wan sighed, as he and Master Qui-Gon sat in the training salle. They were supposed to be practising katas, but Qui-Gon had received a message on his comm just before they were to begin, and suggested they wait instead. "Maybe meditate, to pass the time," Qui-Gon had said, as if it was a joke.

No sooner has Obi-Wan begun to seriously consider the option of meditation, than two other Jedi joined them in the salle. Obi-Wan recognised only the one of them. Master Dooku; Qui-Gon's old Master, and one of the Lost. A Jedi Master who had voluntarily left the Order. There were bronzium busts of each Lost Master in the Archives, describing their achievements and mourning their choice to leave, like it was a kind of death.

Those of the Lost who didn't turn Dark were still welcome to visit the Temple, but Obi-Wan would never have expected to see him here... and he didn't recognise the other man at all.

Dooku bowed his head to Qui-Gon, who bowed more deeply to both men. Then Dooku waved his hand and used the Force to lock the door.

"Ah, subterfuge," the other man said with amusement. "What are we hiding from the Council this time?"

"You are certain your Padawan will welcome this conversation?" Dooku asked Qui-Gon curtly... yet there was an undercurrent of affection, the kind of emotion and attachment the Jedi taught them to avoid and overcome. He cared for Qui-Gon deeply, almost like a son; it was open for anyone to read in the Force.

"I think he needs the lesson in disruption," Qui-Gon said, amused.

Dooku rolled his eyes. "As you wish," he said with a faint smirk. "This is Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas," he introduced the other man there. "My clan-mate and dearest friend."

"And my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Qui-Gon replied.

"This new Sith threat we face," Dooku began, straight down to business. "I believe it to be behind the events on Naboo. I went to intercept the Judicial ships, and falsified the death of Nute Gunray. Based on what we know of the Sith, I expected him to become a target, so I have instead hidden him in a secure location. He confessed his connection to the Sith Lord. I thought we should get that on a permanent record." He held up a datapad with an image of Gunray on the screen.

Qui-Gon nodded. "We should share this with the Council."

"Indeed, but there are other matters I would prefer not to share," Dooku added pointedly, with a look at Obi-Wan as if to ask if he were trustworthy or not.

"Might I ask," Sifo-Dyas interrupted. "I saw a new Initiate today; a nine-year-old boy."

"Yes, we found him on Tatooine," Qui-Gon answered openly, shooting a look at Dooku that conveyed insult at the suggestion Obi-Wan would run to tell any secrets to the Council. Which unnerved Obi-Wan; surely they were supposed to report everything of value to the Council?

"I had a vision when I saw him," Sifo-Dyas continued. "Vast, indescribable potential, for either Light or Dark; both terrifying. I know it is hard to imagine the Light as such, but I assure you... and then, the two images blended; a balance."

"The Chosen One," Qui-Gon blurted out.

"Perhaps," Sifo-Dyas hedged. "We all know prophecies are tricky things. Best not to either jump to conclusions, or worse, let the child know before we absolutely must. Such knowledge would be a heavy burden, and a strong push towards either fear or arrogance."

Obi-Wan nodded. "It would be unwise to tell the boy until we know for sure, at the very least."

Sifo-Dyas bowed his head to Obi-Wan. "Indeed," he agreed.

"Getting back to the Sith, then?" Dooku said curtly. Sifo-Dyas shrugged slightly, looking unrepentant for his interruption. Dooku sighed, looking very much as if he did not want to continue speaking, yet he pushed through his reluctance within only a moment. "I have been courted by whom I believe to be the Sith Master, I expect as a potential Apprentice."

Shock echoed through the room like a physical wave. Obi-Wan was stunned by this, and had no idea how to respond. Luckily, being the Padawan in the room, no one was expecting him to.

"I expect my disagreements with the Jedi Council were of interest to him," Dooku said coldly, through gritted teeth. He was angry, it seeped from his aura like a poison, but it felt like that anger was directed at the Sith for trying to use him this way. "He has been guiding me towards the idea of leaving the Republic; taking my planet and any who would follow with me. A Separatist movement, born of growing distaste for the corruption of the Senate. I had been following along quite eagerly, not realising the truth, until a recent combination of events." He closed his eyes, looking deeply pained by the understanding that he had been deceived this way. "The Sith Apprentice, caught in the act of an attempt on the life of one of the few Republic leaders untouched by this corruption... the new studies that Master Yoda recommended we conduct into the history of the Sith... and his latest communication to me."

"What did he say?" Qui-Gon asked, leaning forward attentively.

"He suggested that Master Sifo-Dyas presented a great threat to the plan we had been following thus far, and so he should be... 'eliminated'."

Silence echoed, near painfully, through the room at that.

"Well, I thank you for disregarding his suggestion," Sifo-Dyas said, with a weak laugh, as if attempting to dismiss his fear through the humour, instead of releasing it into the Force as Jedi were supposed to.

"Even if I did not care for you as a brother," Dooku said through gritted teeth. "Cold logic would paint what he calls a threat as a valued ally. He knows of Kamino, by the way."

"He what?" Sifo-Dyas turned sharply to stare at Dooku, shocked.

"He ordered me to delete all reference to the planet from the Jedi Archives," Dooku said, before handing a data chip over to Qui-Gon. "For which I apologise." He then turned to face Sifo-Dyas more directly. "What, precisely, is of such interest to him on that world? I was told only that it involved you and the data should be deleted."

"Well, ah..." Sifo-Dyas prevaricated, radiating discomfort at being put on the spot. "You know of my vision that had me kicked off the Council?"

"No," Dooku said in a tone that demanded details.

"I foresaw a great conflict. A war. I saw that the Republic was not ready to defend itself, and when I recommended the formation of an army for such defence, the Council thought it was a warning sign that I might be under the influence of the Dark Side. They stripped me of my seat on the Council, and relegated me to petty errands to keep me busy. So... I took matters into my own hands."

"What did you do?" Dooku asked, with all the exasperation of one who knew well the sort of trouble that a close friend could get into when left unsupervised. It reminded Obi-Wan of how he tended to feel when Quinlan Vos was... well, anywhere in the vicinity, to be honest.

"I put in a requisition with the cloners of Kamino, for an army," Sifo-Dyas answered, looking somewhat sheepish. "They are preparing their operations, and expect a host-DNA sample within the next three months."

Dooku rolled his eyes. "And just who would you have used for that?"

"I was looking at candidates," Sifo-Dyas admitted. "I hadn't settled yet, but anyone with a good military or mercenary record and high moral standing would suit quite nicely, I should think."

"There aren't too many of those," Qui-Gon put in.

"And yet, we have one in the Temple," Dooku told him curtly. "Coincidence?"

"I doubt he would appreciate the suggestion," Qui-Gon retorted, smirking. Yes, Obi-Wan could well imagine the reaction Barnes would have to such a suggestion. To say he was likely to be averse to it was an understatement on par with the idea that this entire conversation was only mildly unexpected.

"Perhaps a Mandalorian, then?" Dooku suggested instead of pressing the matter, and in theory Obi-Wan would agree. If he were looking for someone with exceptional martial skill, that would be the first planet he would visit, too.

However... "Why are we even discussing this?" Obi-Wan asked. "If the Sith Lord wants an army, why go ahead and create it?"

"Excuse me?" Sifo-Dyas asked him dubiously.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Obi-Wan asked. "He had Master Dooku delete the data, and tried to have you eliminated before you could reveal your actions; he must mean to steal it."

The two elder Masters shared a look, and the understanding passed between them with all the ease of a training bond, even though they had quite clearly never been in such a relationship.

"If the Sith Master wants a war," Dooku said slowly. "He will instigate one, with or without our aid. If events on Naboo are anything to consider, I expect his other pawns are already building their own army, as we speak."

"And either he swoops in unopposed with their army, or he pits us against each other until he can easily eliminate the weakened survivor," Sifo-Dyas added darkly.

Obi-Wan wilted under the uncomfortable inevitability. "So we need the army, just to have a fighting chance?" he said quietly.

"If he is anything like Grandmaster Shan's description of the Banites and ancient Sith," Dooku said quietly. "He is already ten steps ahead of us, and thinking a further fifty beyond that."

"His contingency plans will have contingency plans," Qui-Gon agreed darkly. "We need to learn what we can of him, and turn it against him."

"There's just one problem with that," Sifo-Dyas pointed out softly. "The last time I tried to get even one step ahead, I was kicked off the Council. Acting on such as visions and dark whispers is considered an act of the Dark, in and of itself, by those who sit on the Council currently. Tantamount to heresy."

"And I fear if I reveal my part in events, I will simply be accused of a Fall, and locked away so that I cannot fight back against him," Dooku added bitterly.

"Even with Masters Windu and Yoda aware of the Sith, having witnessed the Apprentice," Qui-Gon said softly, "The Council are still simply re acting. They would not endorse any proactive plans to move against the Sith."

"Making any move other than immediate self-defence is aggression... and aggression is the path to the Dark Side," Dooku grumbled, sounding very much like he believed the Council's logic there to be flawed. "Pacifism, absent rationalism," he added harshly. "The enemy gathers its strength, whilst we allow ourselves to wither."

Obi-Wan bit his lip, frustration rising up in him at the beginning of an understanding of what the three Masters were discussing. Leaving the Order, or at least directly disobeying the Council.

And worse, it made sense... and he did not like that .

"You should at least try to convince the Council to see reason," he blurted out.

The three Masters exchanged dubious looks. "We have been trying to for quite some time," Sifo-Dyas told him, in the gentle tone of one trying to convince the wilfully blind of the perfectly obvious. Obi-Wan chafed bitterly at that tone being used on him.

"He does have a point, Masters," Qui-Gon said. "With the revelation of the Sith Apprentice, a conversation should at least be attempted. Though I doubt it will be fruitful."

"I wish my involvement to remain discreet," Dooku said pointedly. The other two nodded in agreement.

Then Qui-Gon looked to Obi-Wan expectantly. "I won't tell anyone," Obi-Wan conceded. "Unless I see real evidence of Darkness in Master Dooku."

"A compromise I am happy to agree upon," Dooku answered him with a slight bow of his head. "I would certainly prefer not  to become the monster we are all fighting."

---

Obi-Wan didn't really pay attention to where his feet were taking him, as he left the salle.

He was too frustrated by the situation.

The Order couldn't afford to be keeping secrets and risking internal conflict when a real threat like the Sith had just revealed itself, like this. And yet, he completely understood Master Dooku's fear of being treated as an enemy for being fooled by the real enemy. Obi-Wan would feel the same, in his place, he was certain.

But he also understood Master Windu's position, of hiding the survival of the Sith Assassin from everyone they could, so as to ensure word didn't get back somehow to the Sith Master. If Obi-Wan hadn't literally been there, he would have been left out of the loop, as well, and yet he didn't chafe at that thought. With how quickly gossip emerged from private Council meetings, it was a necessary precaution. And yet, if they could not trust their own Council's discretion...?

He was so busy brooding on the problem that he only noticed when he nearly stepped into a small river, that he had walked all the way up to the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Once he took in his surroundings, he noticed Barnes sitting on a bench nearby, a pad and stylus in hand, staring up at Qui-Gon's favourite tree. When Obi-Wan decided to approach, Barnes lowered the pad down, at an angle that revealed he had been attempting to draw the tree. It was a rough sketch, not of particularly high quality, but it got the basic shape right.

"Hey, you look miserable," Barnes greeted him, with a faint smile.

"Are you an artist?" Obi-Wan asked, instead, trying to deflect.

"No, but I guess... I was trying to connect to the feeling," Barnes admitted, setting his tools aside entirely, as Obi-Wan sat down next to him. "So, what's got you so upset that the other Jedi are giving you dirty looks for what I can only assume is projected bad vibes?"

Obi-Wan looked up, startled. It was true, the other Jedi here were indeed giving him a wide berth, though they seemed to be deliberately not  looking... quite likely due to Barnes calling them out as he had.

He sighed, then shook his head. "Conflicting emotions," he admitted. "I've always had some trouble with my anger, but I thought I had gotten past it."

"Something happened to upset you?" Barnes asked gently. Obi-Wan could feel real sympathy emanating from him, more clearly than he usually felt this man's normally-well-concealed emotions. It wasn't pity or disapproval; it was understanding.

Obi-Wan nodded, scowling deeply. He still couldn't quite reconcile the situation. The very idea that the Council could be wrong seemed utterly impossible to him, and yet... Dooku, Sifo-Dyas, and Qui-Gon had all made valid observations.

"The Jedi philosophy books - which I'm still trying not to laugh too hard at - all talk about clearing your mind and emptying out the emotions you don't want," Barnes said, in a tone that disagreed rather firmly with the idea. Obi-Wan looked up at him now, his scowl deepening further. "Not everyone can do that, you know. And I don't just mean because of the Force, either."

Obi-Wan scoffed. "So what would you recommend, instead?" he demanded rather harshly, allowing his disbelief in any other path to show in his face and tone.

"Instead of pushing the emotion away... process it. Think about why  you feel that way, and focus on the logic of the situation until the emotion fades off on its own. And if it doesn't, figure out why and what action would help. It works for me."

Obi-Wan blinked, slightly confused, as he considered the suggestion. It didn't sound like he was being told to embrace or give in to his emotions, as the Masters all warned to avoid. No, Barnes was simply suggesting a new way to manage the emotions. A different perspective, but not harmfully so, he was quite sure.

He sighed, and tried to think calmly about the situation.

He sat back on the bench, allowing the lightest level of meditation to wash over him, so he could focus more clearly on his own mind instead of his surroundings. Dooku's reasoning for wanting to avoid confrontation was rational. He feared being mistaken for a threat, and how such a mistake would endanger his very life: were Dooku incarcerated, he would become a sitting duck for the Sith Master to eliminate... much as Master Windu had worried the Assassin would become.

But why would the Council ever make such a mistake?

Except, they had done, hadn't they? They had removed Sifo-Dyas' from the Council for trusting a vision granted to him by the Force. They were always telling Obi-Wan to trust in the Force, but there was Master Sifo-Dyas doing just that and being punished for it.

That doesn't seem fair.

He felt a cold shiver wash over him at the realisation that the Council was fallible. That it was indeed possible for them to misinterpret... to make a mistake.

Qui-Gon was always at odds with the Council, though never overtly enough to get in trouble for it. Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon was a great Jedi who did all he could to help others, even when it... bent the Jedi Code a little bit. The goal was to help, and... the Council weren't taking any action regarding this Sith threat, were they? Or had these three other Masters simply not seen  such action being taken?

The frustration faded as he realised they needed to better communicate. The Council needed to admit if it was acting in secret, and the other three Masters needed to convey their concerns clearly, without presenting themselves at odds to the Order's purpose.

Dooku could keep his secret, so long as it didn't hinder the investigation into the Sith Master. The source of information did not need to be identified, so long as the information itself was accepted and acted upon.

Obi-Wan reached out to the Force, to confirm his instincts. He felt warmth, and a sense of rightness.

His anger, his frustration... it was gone, now. Clarity remained.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Barnes was watching him thoughtfully. "Feel better?"

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "I know what we need to do."

---

This was not the sort of mission that Jedi Master Luminara Unduli would have chosen... to visit Dathomir of all places. The rumours and stories about this place, they were the sort of terrifying tale younglings would share to try to give each other nightmares.

However, she adjusted to the need with all the practised stoicism of her Jedi upbringing. Her partner for this mission, Master Adi Gallia, was far more relaxed about it, though to be fair Luminara had always needed to work on her calm, while Adi came by it more naturally.

They broadcast the appropriate greeting, requesting an audience with their counterpart on the planet. There was an awkward irony that only the leader of the Jedi Order would be considered the equal of the leader of this world, yet to be considered such an equal, that leader would need to be a woman... and Master Yoda was no woman. So the pair would only be meeting with a representative of the Nightsisters, rather than their Great Mother.

The witch they met was of an age with them, for all that this was discernible with the Nightsisters. She introduced herself curtly, "Greetings, Jedi. I am Verril, first hand of Mother Talzin. For what reason have you come here?"

"We encountered what we believed to be a Nightbrother," Adi explained. "And were hoping to better understand the situation."

Verril's eyes sharpened at this, and she gave them a carefully evaluating look. Whatever she was looking for in their eyes and the Force, she seemed to find it, and nodded curtly. "No Nightbrother has left our world in twenty standard cycles. No Nightbrother has willingly  left our world in five hundred. Does he live?"

"Do you wish him returned?" Luminara asked, carefully not revealing the answer until they knew if he would be safe to return.

"If he lives and wishes it," Verril replied, with a casually dismissive wave. "You are wise not to answer. He who stole our Mother's son would not suffer the threat to his power."

Suddenly, Verril reached down to the ground, kneeling down just long enough to touch the red sandy dirt, and pulled some shimmering green light up out of it. The green light rippled around her hand for a moment, then melted away and she was holding a small reddish pebble. "If he is dead, burn this with his corpse. If he lives, give him this blessing from our Mother. Your visit was welcome this time, Jedi, but now you should leave."

---

Shmi Skywalker had only been back on Tatooine for two days, working with a team of Republic clerks to finalise membership bureaucracy. Tomorrow they would vote on a full-time Senator, but whether she got that job or not, Shmi was still going to return to Coruscant to be near Anakin.

It was a warm, windless evening, as the first sun set. Shmi was walking back to her living quarters, from their newly established Republic offices, when she saw it.

A shimmer on the sand, just outside the city.

As she moved closer to get a better look, she realised that it was a humanoid figure crawling towards the gates. The Sand People were brutal, but they had never been known to use a live victim as bait. It was fair to assume this was a genuine person in distress.

She called the nearest guards, and ran out with them to see who it could be.

The figure appeared human, when the guard helped them into the shade. Underneath robes made from many layers of thin grey fabric - looking nothing like either a typical Tatooine farmer, nor the Jedi style she had seen recently - Shmi could see their skin was porcelain pale, with a fine bone structure and fire-red hair. A complexion that had no place under the intense twin suns, yet there was no sign of burns. Just a croaked out plea for water.

Shmi handed over her water canister, and she would swear the temperature dropped as the stranger drank it down eagerly.

"Thank you," they managed to gasp out.

"Do you have a name, friend?" the guard asked gently.

A slow, weak blink, revealing striking green eyes. They tried to speak, but no sound came out before they passed out.

Shmi helped the guard bring them into the settlement, her back to the setting second sun... and so she missed the flash of green light that came with it as they crossed the threshold of the city.

---

Chapter Text

x x x

Mace Windu was contemplating the problem of their Sith prisoner and all his existence implied, meditating alone in his chambers, when he received a notification on his comm. The tone indicated urgency, so he checked it, instead of dismissing it and continuing his meditations as he otherwise surely would.

A simple text message, from Padawan Kenobi: "Your presence is requested in meeting hall 6, floor -12."

-12 was the current designation of the level where the Force-resistant holding cells were. Where the assassin, Maul, was being held. While the meeting halls there had not seen use in many years, and Maul certainly should not be outside of his cell, this felt just as urgent as the comm's tone led him to imagine. He swiftly stood and made his way there, at once.

When he arrived, he saw a gathering. Padawan Kenobi sat at the head of the table, back straight and focused, his Force signature and body-language both suggesting he was quite sure of himself, yet nervous all the same.

Quiet determination. The clear feeling that the Padawan knew he was in the right, but that he was breaking a protocol or ten to do it.

Qui-Gon stood nearby, to his student's right, but in a posture of indulgence to his Padawan's plans. Master Sifo-Dyas and former Master Dooku stood side by side, a little further down the far side of the conference table from the door. Master Yoda stood near the door, as Mace entered.

Yoda looked up at Mace, amusement barely hidden on his face, and clearly shining out of his eyes and Force presence, yet he could also sense concern as well in the elder Master. "An interesting meeting, I believe this will be," he said with more cheer than he felt, though it was not entirely forced.

Padawan Kenobi stood, and the door closed behind Mace at Kenobi's command. "Masters, please, sit." He gestured to the chairs around the table.

Qui-Gon took the seat next to Obi-Wan, Sifo-Dyas and Dooku sat down the side, to the boy's right, a few chairs away from Qui-Gon. Yoda and Mace sat opposite the pair.

"An old saying, rarely used in Jedi circles, but I think it matters here," Padawan Kenobi said, taking his own seat at the head of the table. "United we stand."

After a long, and uncomfortable, pause, it was Dooku who finished the saying, "Divided we fall."

"There are some matters we must keep secret, for safety's sake," Kenobi said with a pointed glance to all present, lingering mostly on Mace and Dooku. "But we cannot be acting at odds to one another for fear of miscommunication and mistrust. It's one thing to live in a time when the worst threat is on a planetary scale that can generally be managed by a Jedi or two showing up to reason with those in disagreement. While I understand that Count Dooku's choice to leave the Order was due to his opinion that such threats were not being appropriately handled... compared to the reemergence of the Sith, we cannot allow even such deep grievances to pull us apart."

Dooku nodded slowly in agreement to Kenobi's words, and there was a smile of pride trying to emerge on Qui-Gon's face.

"Everyone in this room has seen evidence of the new Sith threat," Kenobi continued. " Different  evidence. We need to work together, to help us understand what we are up against, and prepare a plan to defeat it. Not to avoid it, not to endure it, but to stop it. Because we all know that the Sith will not stop on their own, and they will do nothing but harm innocents in their quest to destroy and conquer. So can we please all set our misgivings and pride aside, and just talk , instead of assuming what each other will say beforehand?"

With a deep sigh, Dooku nodded, and looked up to meet Mace's gaze with forced calm. "I had reason to believe the Sith Master ordered the attack on Naboo, not merely that upon the Queen herself. I extracted Viceroy Gunray from the transport ship, using Jedi Shadow vital-suppressors to falsify his death, and have a copy of his full testimony on the matter here," he said as he passed a small chip into the middle of the table.

Before Mace or Yoda could question this, Sifo-Dyas spoke up. "I must confess, in my concern for the vision I had of a coming conflict, I made arrangements for the creation of an army, with the cloners of Kamino. To protect the Republic against the coming threat, nothing more. I believe the Sith Master is aware of this army, and seeking to claim it for himself. As such, I think it best if a Jedi presence is established on Kamino to ensure against this." He, too, slid a chip across the table. "Coordinates and details of the cloning facility and contract," he added, nodding to the chip. "The funding is not entirely legitimate, try not to look into it too carefully."

"If funding becomes an issue, Serenno will step in," Dooku said firmly.

"Why would we want to keep to this contract?" Mace asked dubiously.

"Because the droid invasion of Naboo strongly implies that there is another army, either already built, or at least partially so," Qui-Gon spoke up. "Based on information you are already aware of, Master Windu, it is my belief that the Sith Master expects to pit the two factions, and their armies, against each other. It would be far preferable that we control one side of his horrific game, rather than allow him to either hold court over both, or roll in on one army with our own side defenceless."

Mace looked down at the table for a moment. "The Sith Assassin did not die immediately upon arrival in the Temple," he declared to the room, carefully choosing his words so that if anyone here did go spreading unhelpful rumours, he could still turn around and tell the easy lie that the Sith died immediately after interrogation... for their prisoner's protection. "We were able to interrogate him, and determined that he knew relatively little of his Master's grand plan... but he was able to tell us that it involved making us fight amongst ourselves so that he could take over in the aftermath."

"Why, Master Yoda," Padawan Kenobi spoke up, "Was Master Sifo-Dyas' vision considered grounds for dismissal from the Council?"

"Grounds for dismissal, the vision was not. His choice to act on it, our concern was."

"So at what point is it considered viable to act upon the evidence?" Kenobi asked, his voice clipped to show he was just barely holding his once-infamous temper in check. "When it comes from the Force? When it comes from our eyes and ears? When it comes in the form of a lightsaber through our chests?"

Qui-Gon winced slightly, and a brief flash of offence echoed from Yoda. Mace felt that same offence, himself, as well. Meanwhile, amusement at the exact choice of words, and a sense of cold irony echoed from the far side of the table.

"Trust in the Force, that's what we've always been told," Sifo-Dyas said softly. "And yet, when we do..."

The emotion in Yoda faded faster than it did in Mace, and the elder Master nodded slowly. "Your point, crudely worded as it is, I see, Padawan Kenobi. Not always accurate, such visions are. In interpreting them, cautious we must be."

"I believe what Padawan Kenobi was trying to say," Dooku said with a faint smile. "Is that not all action based on such foresight is necessarily harmful. Preparation for the possibility of a threat, with the hope it will not be needed in the end, is far better than blithely walking into a trap, is it not?"

"The Force warns us, in battle, when a blaster is fired at us, and we are wise to move immediately to block or dodge it," Qui-Gon pointed out. "Yet when it offers a vision of a more distant possible future we should hope to avoid... I believe Master Sifo-Dyas was right to take measures, though it is debatable if the exact measures he took were the correct ones."

"Debatable in hindsight," Dooku added. "As it is already too late to avoid some of the events we were warned of." He turned to Sifo-Dyas. "Did you ever see the details of the threat in your vision?"

"No, only the idea of the Republic fighting a war for its very existence," Sifo-Dyas admitted. "The certainty that we needed far more than we had then, or even have now, to defend it. Screams of suffering and death, their voices and spirits familiar; I knew them to be my fellow Jedi, though I could not place names to them." He took a deep breath. "It felt as if we were in over our heads; a war we were not prepared to be a part of, that we were thrust suddenly and unwillingly into. That we were the fulcrum upon which the galaxy hinged... and that we were tipping in the wrong direction."

There was a tense silence following that. Mace and Yoda exchanged a look, and Yoda nodded slowly. "Action, you believe is required."

"Has anyone else here even noticed the last thousand years?" Dooku asked, in that soft tone he had that was truly ominous, his gaze focused on Yoda as he spoke. "The Jedi have waned in number, in strength, in resolve. I have no desire for a return to the immediate pre-Ruusan situation; that was truly untenable. But the philosophies the Order held in the age of the Old Republic, or even before then. Our age restrictions leave Force users deemed 'too old' vulnerable to being picked up and indoctrinated by the Sith. The sheer strictness of our more modern policies prevent us from protecting the innocent." His focus shifted to Mace, now. "Which, need I remind you for the thousandth time, is our original and true purpose as Jedi. We cling to comfortable habits less than a century or ten old, and rely on the Senate to tell us where to go and who to help... be they in real need, or the oppressors themselves. I think we need to take a serious and deep look in the mirror, as an organisation, and consider how it is that what we have become is far more malleable to the whims of this Sith sect than we would like."

"He's right, Masters," Padawan Kenobi said firmly. "How many missions have we been on, where it turned out those who requested our aid were the ones causing the most harm? I don't wish to question the wisdom of the Council... but the Senate? Certainly."

"No, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said with a cold smile. "Let's be honest; we do  wish to question the wisdom of the Council... in choosing to blindly follow such leadership."

"Is anyone else noticing the inclusive terminology Master Dooku has been using?" Sifo-Dyas asked with a smirk.

"A request to return to the Order, is this, then?" Yoda asked keenly.

"If you're willing to listen to me, then yes," Dooku admitted bluntly. "Otherwise... I couldn't possibly comment in polite company."

Kenobi snorted, trying not to laugh. Mace got the strong impression from both Kenobi and Qui-Gon that they weren't aware of any polite company here, in spite of two of them being members of the Council.

As if in response to these thoughts, Yoda grumbled. "Hmph. Become polite company, I have?"

Mace rolled his eyes, and shook his head. "You ask much, Count Dooku," he said curtly.

"Consider your advice, we will," Yoda cut him off, much to his surprise. He barely kept his reaction from showing blatantly on his face, as he turned to look at the elder Master. "Correct you are. Over time, weakened the Order has become. Consider the cause, we must. Consider the repercussions, we must. Prepared for the Sith threat, we must be."

---

Bucky was spending most of his time hanging around the containment level of the Jedi Temple, studying what he could about galactic history on his own personal datapad, while watching Maul, but also being watched by another Jedi. Usually it was Windu, but today it was the healer; Vokara Che.

Aliens were nothing new to Bucky, even the non-human-looking ones, but it was still really interesting learning about new species. It turned out he had been right about that other Jedi Master being a Zabrak as well, but apparently the ones on Maul's planet were wilfully... different. The girl he'd met while being introduced to the cafeteria; Bant, was amphibious, from a planet that only had a few tiny scraps of land above water... and Vokara was a Twi'lek, from an arid world with sparse jungles, where hunting had been a far bigger deal than gathering on their species' development, as opposed to the even balance it had been on humans. Twi'lek looked delicate, almost harmless... until you saw their teeth. Not that getting on any medic's bad side was a survivable long-term strategy, at the best of times, but it did add a little thrill to the way she glared at him.

Cosmo was still taking those Jedi philosophy classes that she had been offered, just for something to do.

Maul was watching Bucky just as intently as Vokara was, too. Bucky was actually paying more attention to his own research. But when he suddenly laughed at a passing thought, Maul took the bait and asked, "What is so amusing?" with a bit of a snarl.

"I've just noticed the parallels," he said with a smirk, as he set the datapad down. "There's a saying on my world, I don't know how popular it is in the rest of the galaxy... 'those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it' ."

"I have heard this adage," Maul admitted.

"On my world, there was a, uh... incident," Bucky explained. "An invasion by a previously unknown alien group, led by a man who was like you and me; he had been made into someone else's weapon. He couldn't have cared less about our world, but he had been given his mission, and so he invaded. I knew some of the people who helped defeat him. When he was captured, he was locked up, and he refused to cooperate... the same way you tried to."

Maul sneered, but seemed curious enough about the story not to outright interrupt.

"He was locked up deep in a dungeon, and just left there. Six years later, we had no clue anything bigger was going on. We were bickering amongst ourselves about petty internal politics... and that's when the one who sent him came back to finish the job."

"And what happened?"

"He won. He got everything he wanted, and then just left us to pick up the ruined pieces afterwards."

"He did not conquer your world?"

"That wasn't his goal. He took a powerful artefact we had, and used it to achieve his goal. Destabilised our entire planet in the process... and claimed he was being merciful." Bucky looked up at Maul, now. "I just wonder what would have happened, if someone had bothered to question Loki, instead of just locking him up."

"Have you not done both, to me?"

"Oh, you're only locked up as long as the Jedi distrust you... so yeah, it might be a while, but..." he shrugged.

Maul sneered again, but somehow he still looked almost  amused.

"I am surprised you are not in the very next cell," Maul said coldly.

"So am I, can we not push it?" he asked, nodding to where Vokara was pretending to read a datapad, but very obviously listening.

Now that was almost a laugh, too. "My Master does  wish to rule."

"And what do you want?" Bucky asked.

"Power."

Bucky snorted and shook his head. "Power, like wealth, is a tool. What does it benefit you to just sit on a resource like that, besides maybe stroking a weak ego?" Maul scowled, seeming genuinely confused by that thought. "What do you want power for? "

He didn't seem to have an answer, and Bucky just quietly went back to his datapad, reading about the power structure of the Republic Senate.

Let the thought sit with Maul, and gnaw at him until he could answer the question.

After a while - fifteen minutes, according to the datapad, but Bucky hadn't really been counting - Maul spoke again. "I am surprised you are not pushing me for more information."

"I feel like it wouldn't help," Bucky admitted. "I mean, where is your Master's base?"

Maul bowed his head. "I do not know. I was trained in a range of empty buildings, scattered across the lower levels of Coruscant. Never the same place twice."

"I figured," Bucky nodded. "Old warehouses, empty shops, abandoned banks. A children's playground that had gone out of business, one time." The shock on Maul's face clearly spoke of how parallel they were. "I know the drill, it's almost like he's following the same play... book. Oh, fuck, I hope he doesn't have the book."

"What book?" Maul asked, leaning forward, eager to capitalise on Bucky's slip-up.

Bucky shook his head. The last time he had seen the book had been in Zemo's hand, during the fight between himself, Steve, and Iron Man. They had just left it there. If he had really been thinking clearly, they should have pulled Stark out of the building, and blown the whole lot of it up; Zemo, book, and all. But they hadn't, and he had no idea what happened to it after that. He knew that T'Challa had taken Stark back to the nearest UN facility, where he could get medical attention, alongside Zemo to be arrested... but he didn't know if the old HYDRA base, or any of its horrifically dangerous contents, had actually been dealt with in any meaningful away.

What were the odds of that  book surviving to this era? Low, certainly... but not zero enough for his liking.

He would not be discussing that any time soon, so instead he asked. "Where did you live?"

"I have had several apartments in the lower levels, to sleep in," Maul answered, but Bucky could tell he was not going to forget about the book. "I do not believe I stayed in the same district for more than a month."

"Whole planet's a city, no reason to ever return to the same place twice," Bucky said with a nod. "And this is why I haven't asked for more information earlier, because I was expecting this level of covert... and I imagine if you knew anything of value about him, you'd have shared by now."

Maul's gaze drifted off to the side, and Bucky took it as a tell that he did in fact have information that he was holding back, perhaps in exchange for better treatment.

He had been fed and given soft bedding, then left in the energy-shielded cell, which also seemed to be equipped to block Force-users from their abilities. There was even an alcove to the cell, where he could go to the bathroom with some degree of privacy. It was waaaay  nicer than the Raft.

If his Master's treatment of him was in any way close to HYDRA's of Bucky, he had it good  here... and he knew it.

He had even behaved himself well enough to be granted the tools for his horn-maintenance procedure... and actually used them for their intended purpose, too, rather than attempting to escape or maim anyone with them.

But he didn't speak.

After ten more minutes, and no further conversation from Maul, Bucky decided to ask, "Hey, feel free to not answer if this is too personal a question, but is there any meaning in your facial markings?"

Maul scowled at him, but then shrugged and answered, "They are ritual tattoos," he said, a cold bitterness in his voice. "All Nightbrothers are marked by kin-lines in infancy, and new markings are added after significant personal achievements. All my markings were stripped from me, and replaced by Sith tattoos, when my Master claimed me."

Bucky winced, horrified at the idea of having something that deeply personal  rewritten by someone else. He glanced down at his left hand for a moment, flexing the fingers, as he considered it. It was the closest he had to that kind of experience, and he knew it didn't actually measure up. "Can they be returned to their original design? Would you want that?"

Maul hesitated for a long time, before answering. "Yes and no. I would like my kin-lines back, but while I am now an enemy of my former Master, I am not ashamed to have become Sith. I would remove the marks that claim me as his , but keep those that denote me a warrior of the crimson blade."

Bucky shot Vokara a pointed look, and as he had expected she had been listening in to the entire conversation. She nodded slowly to him, before turning to make a note on her datapad. "Looks like we can arrange that," he told Maul. "And it might make it harder for a bounty-hunter to recognise you...?"

Maul snorted, but he actually seemed amused, the closest Bucky had seen him to a genuinely positive emotion, so far. "Perhaps."

"You're bolder than me about your medical abuse," Bucky said bluntly, raising his left hand just enough to draw Maul's attention to the metal limb. "It took me years to accept a replacement for the arm my captors gave me."

---

One of Anakin's favourite pastimes, since meeting the man, was convincing Bucky to tell him a story. He was very good at it, and he was full of new  stories that Anakin hadn't heard before.

Stories were a big deal to the slaves on Tatooine... and Anakin just loved  hearing them.

In their second week living in the Temple, he had sort of accidentally stumbled onto the fact Bucky was great with stories, by asking why he had called him 'Aladdin' that first time they met... and Bucky had gone on and told the entire tale of this brilliant street rat who, by the end of the story had saved his whole world by playing a trick on an evil power-hungry man.

Anakin had absolutely adored how that whole conflict had been resolved with just clever words... and then freeing the magic genie, too.

So he made a point of asking for a story whenever he could, now... and so far, Bucky had never disappointed. He had heard the tale of a queen with ice magic, fighting to control her powers and protect her kingdom. A legendary marksman, who stole from an evil prince to feed the people and save the princess. A boy who grew up in a village that hunted dragons, but the boy went and befriended one instead, and the dragon ended up helping save everyone from a big disaster. And a small overlooked being who managed to take treasure back from an evil dragon, and helped talk down his friend who went mad with power.

In fact, as he got out of his last lesson of the day, he was just trying to figure out where Bucky might be so he could go ask for another story, when one of the Jedi Masters approached him.

---

Bucky was meeting up with Cosmo after her lessons - lessons which she shared with Anakin, and a small pack of younger children - when he saw an older Jedi approach Anakin.

"I noticed your discomfort when you addressed me as 'Master', the other day," the man said softly. Anakin frowned, and looked away. "I'm assuming, from your reaction, that you feel a negative connotation in the word. I was hoping to offer you an alternative. There is a word in an older Jedi language that has all the intended meaning of a Jedi Master, and none of the other potential interpretations of the word."

Anakin looked interested. "What is it?" he asked hopefully.

The man said a single word, and the translation in Bucky's mind, that he presumed to be Allspeak, glitched over it for a fraction of a second before settling on, "Sensei."

Bucky couldn't quite hold back the chuckle at the brilliantly apt comparison. ' The Karate Kid ' had been on the list Scott Lang had sent him, after the final battle with Thanos, of 'awesome movies you need to see'. He had been in the phase of trying to keep everyone at a distance, then, and so he had pushed away Lang's attempt at striking up a friendship... but he had still quietly taken some of those suggestions.

The difference in styles between what Shuri and the Young Avengers had pushed on him, and Lang's offerings spoke of the generation gap there, he thought. Most of Lang's favourites had been made in the 1980s, while the Young Avengers' tastes tended to follow certain themes rather than adhering any specific timeframe... but not a single one of any of their suggestions had actually been bad.

Except, now he had Mr Miyagi and Cobra Kai stuck in his head, and they echoed the Jedi and Sith almost hilariously.

And Anakin and that Jedi were staring at him. "Sorry, didn't mean to overhear," he lied. "It's just how my translator took that word. For the record, I think it's perfect, it just reminded me of something."

"Something funny?" the other Jedi asked.

"Kind of," Bucky admitted with a shrug. "There's a story on my homeworld-"

Anakin positively cheered, when the suggestion of a story was brought up, and Bucky laughed.

"Okay, calm down, I was going to tell it anyway." He turned to the older Jedi, and added. "I think it's an interesting comparison to the Jedi and Sith philosophies, if you're interested in hearing it?"

The man nodded, smiling warmly. "Oh, very much so."

---

Master Sifo-Dyas found the tale positively intriguing. It seemed a perfect morality tale for why anger and cruelty led only to suffering, yet told through the perspective of a protagonist who struggled with his emotional control and patience.

Yet, it showed the flaws and cracks in the Jedi philosophy all the more clearly, because this Mr Miyagi's teaching method both echoed and drew attention to some of those flaws, while also performing better in other areas.

The test of patience while teaching the student to build muscle-memory, for example, was definitely something Yoda would pull if he was allowed... and he very much should not be, because the tale clearly showed how such could lead to anger and frustration on the student's part.

The way he emphasised that the best way to win a fight was not to get into a fight was admirable, too.

As the story continued after the big tournament, however, Sifo-Dyas noticed a shift in tone... and sure enough, eventually the student- well, most Jedi would say he fell, but Sifo-Dyas would say he only stumbled and was lost for a time, before realising his mistakes and returning to the righteous path.

The Council would be unhappy with this tale being told to an entire class of younglings, but the children lapped it up with such enthusiasm, every single one of them rooting for the protagonist to learn from his mistakes, redeem himself, and win the right way  in the end.

Mr Barnes certainly did know how to tell a story well.

---

Chapter Text

x x x

Under close supervision from Masters Windu and Yoda, as well as the healer Vokara Che, Maul was given the gift from his homeworld.

He was standing at the edge of his cage, when he was handed it, initially dubious that he would be given such a gift, and then of its true intent. The small pebble glowed green - a particular shade of green with which Bucky was quite uncomfortably familiar - when Maul touched it, and he fell to his knees, shaking as the energy in it spread through him.

There was no visible physical change to him, when it finally stopped. He was simply staring at the now-inert rock in his hands, as if it held the key to everything he had ever wanted.

Then... when he looked up at the assembled Jedi (and Bucky), some of the deep bloody red had seeped out of his eyes, leaving them almost golden-yellow with only a faint edge of red around the rim of the irises.

"What- what just happened?" Bucky asked dubiously.

"Yellow is a common natural eye-colour in Dathomiri," Vokara said curtly. "While a Sith's eyes tend to become red and yellow, from the destructive energies of the Dark Side. I believe there was some... emotional resonance to that 'gift'."

Maul nodded slowly, holding the small pebble close to his chest. "I always believed I was gifted to my Master. As it turns out, I was stolen."

---

It had been a few hours since Maul received his gift from his homeworld. Bucky had stayed in the holding area, simply for lack of anything else of value to do.

The other Jedi returned to their business, and Bucky just sat there, reading. Again.

That is, until he snorted derisively at one of the documents in question.

"Care to share the joke?" Maul asked dubiously.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. "I feel like the Jedi wouldn't like me doing that, but I don't think I care so much. I'm reading the Ruusan Reformation articles, to figure out why they did it. I kind of get some of the reasoning, but it just adds to my theory that the Jedi are terribly afraid of their own emotions."

Maul chuckled darkly at that, nodding. "So I have heard."

"It says there is no place for anger, ever. Anger only leads to suffering. That was what I was laughing at."

"Anger is a valuable tool," Maul agreed. "Added fuel to strengthen one in battle."

"But I just feel like... the Jedi got it the wrong way around?" Bucky said with a shrug. "Anger leading to suffering? I more often see suffering leading to anger. You were hurt by someone, you get angry at the source of your pain. The way I see it, the moral question isn't even whether or not to pass on that pain, but to whom."

Maul tilted his head thoughtfully. "How so?"

"Those who eagerly choose to cause pain deserve to understand intimately what they do," Bucky replied coldly. "It could even be considered a form of justice. But if, let's say, you were beaten by the one who raised you, so you went on to beat the child you raise yourself... that makes you worse  than someone who committed violence without experiencing it first, because you know exactly what you're doing, and choose to do it to an innocent."

Maul didn't even hesitate to nod in agreement. Bucky had wondered if he would. The Sith teachings surely would have called innocence weakness... but no, he just agreed immediately. That was a good sign.

"And if you witnessed innocents suffering..." Bucky continued, but paused, leaving an opening for Maul to answer.

"Those who cause it should be made to suffer," Maul growled darkly.

Bucky sort of half-nodded, half-shrugged, smiling at getting all the right answers here. Maul would never turn to the Jedi ideologies, but this was the middle path. Violent, yes... but for the best reasons.

"But here's where it gets complicated," he said, watching Maul for his reaction now. "The hard part is making sure you're targeting a true monster, and not a convenient scapegoat." He thought of T'Challa, then. Of how Bucky himself had been accused of his father, T'Chaka's murder... and of Tony, and how true and justified his rage at Bucky had been. "I've been both," he added softly.

"Ancient feuds, both sides able to name loved ones killed by the other, until they forget why it ever started, happen that way, Barnes."

Both men looked up to see Obi-Wan standing in the doorway to the holding area, watching them both carefully, his arms folded a little bit defensively.

"That's why the key - and the really hard part - is in learning to see the difference between someone lashing out in their own fear and pain... and the monsters who enjoy causing  fear and pain." Bucky stood up, and approached Obi-Wan. The Jedi was younger and shorter than him, so he made a point not to loom too ominously, but that required a deliberate effort with his stature. "The Jedi see the Sith as those monsters, don't they?"

Obi-Wan glanced at Maul with a frown. "I see what you're doing here," he answered. "And I regret to admit that yes... had you not incapacitated Maul, I very likely would have fought him to the death, based purely on what I had been taught from ancient history books." He took a steadying breath, before admitting, "And I see now that that would have been a mistake."

Bucky got the odd feeling, from Obi-Wan's body-language and the turn of the conversation, that the 'ancient feud' he'd referenced earlier actually wasn't  the Jedi and the Sith... but it was the only one he knew of to compare to here.

"Those monsters do exist," Bucky said softly. "I've known a few of them... far more intimately than I would have liked. I've been their science experiment and their punching bag, and I was forged against my will into their weapon. I know what it looks like when someone takes pleasure in another person's pain. They can't be reasoned with; in fact they love to pretend they can so you feel a false hope in trying. But real monsters like that are a lot rarer than most people think. Most people who seem like the 'bad guys' are really just hurting, themselves. The idea your Jedi rulebook states, that once you 'fall' to the 'dark side', you can never find your way back... it's mostly bullshit."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "I see your point," he said, eyes still lingering on Maul. Maul made a fantastic case-study for the whole argument, really. "But using anger-"

"Everyone has their own way of coping," Bucky cut across him sharply. "I get that it won't work for everyone, but Maul's known little else... and I've known a bit too much of the opposite to want anything to do with it anymore. When I was used as a weapon, they hollowed me out, got into my head and made me a blank slate unable to refuse their orders. That... thing  they turned me into was emotionless, cold. Soulless. I need  my emotions to feel like I'm still really me. And in a fight... anger works . Those monsters... they can't feel righteous  anger. They can't see pain and need in their soul  to make it stop, like most decent people. Not  feeling that? It's a sign that something in you is broken. It's apathy... and a whole society like that is a sign that the monsters are winning."

" 'Apathy is death' ; Darth Kreia," Obi-Wan said softly, sounding slightly sick at the idea of actually agreeing with one of the ancient Sith.

Maul made a soft sound, almost but not quite like clearing his throat. Both of them turned back to look at him. "I still feel it," he said softly. "That need to fix  what causes harm. My Master tried very hard to beat it out of me, and when he couldn't he painted the Jedi as a great cause of harm in the galaxy. All the old Sith teachings call it weakness. I'm very curious how you can see it otherwise?"

Bucky smiled at that. "Of course he can't understand. If you care, it gives you motivation; it fuels you. The way you spoke of pure anger... righteous anger is stronger, because, just like love, it makes you fight for  something you see beauty in, instead of merely against your enemies."

There was a very long silence, as both Obi-Wan and Maul stared at Bucky, and he could tell that the message had hit home for both of them, even if they were still both a little too wedded to their respective ideologies. There would be no changing Obi-Wan, and frankly Bucky didn't want to. Maul, on the other hand, only needed to bend a little to adjust to the recommended change.

Finally, Maul spoke up. "The Jedi have done nothing to harm me," he said curtly. He then focused on Bucky. "And in spite of physical pain, you have in fact helped me. Darth Sidious is the sole focus of my anger, now."

Obi-Wan blinked, surprised. "Well, that is far more of a declaration of allegiance than I would have expected," he admitted. Then he shifted his posture and tone to a more amicable one, even if it seemed a bit forced. "I was sent by Healer Che, to ask if now would be a good time for your dermal regeneration treatments?"

"Allegiance is such a strong word," Maul smirked. "But you do keep offering me the nicest gifts."

---

Bucky was grateful to be asked to leave, when Maul accepted that offer. Medical procedures still made him uneasy, even when he wasn't involved in any way.

He found himself wandering down to the library, yet again, and it was here that he was accosted by an older man. Human (looking, at least), with grey hair balding slightly, and a shorter stature, the man still held all the self-assurance of one who had earned his place. "Ah, you're the human from the homeworld, am I correct?" he asked. "Mr Barnes, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Bucky answered hesitantly.

"I am Jedi Master Eno Cordova, one of the Order's foremost archaeologists."

"I'm not for study," Bucky said sharply.

"Ah, no, not what I was going to ask, don't worry," Cordova held up his hands in a manner intended to placate concerns. "My colleagues tell me you and Ms Cosmo are quite intellectually inclined yourselves, and given the circumstances of how you ended up in this time, I was hoping to offer you an opportunity to join me on an expedition to learn more about this 'Knowhere', where Master Jinn found the both of you. Perhaps there could be a trail to follow back to the homeworld? Earth, wasn't it called?"

Cordova gave off an air of great enthusiasm for the prospect of simply learning . It was not an easy trait to fake; Bucky had seen people try to emulate it before, and this man sure did seem sincere, the way he gesticulated excitedly as he spoke, and the way he seemed to not realise he was smiling at the very idea of such an expedition.

Bucky couldn't help but smile at him, nodding slowly. "That... is certainly something I'll want to think about." He hadn't considered the possibility at all... and now that he did, he felt a kind of deep-seated desperation to latch onto the thread being dangled in front of him. "Have you asked Cosmo yet?"

"Oh, yes, I have... but she is reluctant to return to the scene of her captivity," Cordova admitted, a bit sheepishly. "Quite understandable, of course. I wouldn't want to push her. She did express an interest in analysing anything we found, so long as she doesn't have to actually go  there. We're planning to have a supply ship in orbit of the site while we work, and she has said if she joined us she would be most comfortable remaining on the ship."

Bucky nodded slowly, and forced a smile. Now that he understood why Cosmo didn't want to go, it made him a bit uncomfortable as well. On the other hand, he had no actual memories of Knowhere.

He hadn't wanted to return to the HYDRA safehouses he'd known of, but he'd had better reason to (destroying his enemies' resources), and no one else he'd been able to trust with it, so he'd done it anyway. It wouldn't cause the same reaction in him to go to Knowhere; he knew he'd dislike that aspect of it, but not at all the same way.

"I'll think about it," he said simply.

"Here's my holo-code," Cordova tapped his datapad, and Bucky's chirped to show he'd received the message. "Please let me know either way, I'd like to set out within the next two months, if possible."

---

"You think he'll go for it?" Mace asked quietly.

"Disruptive, his influence is," Yoda answered. "Correct he is, that change the Jedi Order needs. If allowed to remain, press the issue he would. Time, these things take."

"So you're hoping he will," Mace grumbled, shaking his head.

"Good for all of us, this will be. In need of a quest, both men are."

"True... Cordova does always seem one boring meeting away from running off to explore some ancient Sith Temple. But we can't leave the pair unsupervised, either."

"Worse, it is. With Barnes, Maul will wish to go."

Mace only just resisted the instinct to slam his head into a wall at that statement. Instead, he scowled formidably. "That is... not an option I appreciate."

"To join them, suggest who, do you?"

Well that just completely stumped Mace. He couldn't think of a single member of the Order both willful enough to wrangle those three men, and yet also wedded well enough to the spirit of the Jedi Code to do so safely.

Yoda smiled at him. Except it wasn't really a smile, it was that smug calculating smirk that spoke of brilliant trouble. "Recommend Knight Kenobi, I do."

---

What's the opposite of Stockholm Syndrome? Where you start to feel fond - even protective - of your prisoner? Whatever it was called, Bucky was pretty sure the feeling was mutual... in the creepy shared-experience-of-being-tortured-and-brainwashed kind of way. Maul clearly gravitated towards him, and the Jedi - well, those who knew Maul was alive, anyway - had all noticed it, too.

Bucky idly wondered how well he might have gotten on with Loki, if they'd been in a situation where they could speak for more than five minutes without attempting to murder each other... and after some consideration, he kind of figured it'd be about the same as with Maul.

He hated how quickly he got attached. He knew what was going to inevitably happen. Either whoever he got close to would do something stupid and die, or he'd get dragged away from them by his own shitty type of luck. So far, he hadn't actually lost anyone any other way.

Drafted. Steve followed. When he was thought dead, Steve stupidly tried to get there, too. When they both survived that, it was to wake up in a world where everyone else had aged and died while they'd been asleep. Just as he'd finally accepted his new life, Steve did a stupid with the time travel. Then, when he was beginning to believe he could have other friends, like Sam... well, he didn't like to think about that.

And just as he'd been getting comfortable in the role of guiding, teaching and protecting the Young Avengers, he'd been accosted by that pack of Kree and found himself in this whole other era.

He wondered how long the kids (sure, they were all in their twenties by then, but he still saw them as kids) had looked for him? What they eventually found?

And now he was finding himself drawn to Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Maul, in the same way. They were all so young, and he wanted to help them. Not to mention the grudging mutual respect he was beginning to feel for Qui-Gon and Dooku.

Windu and Yoda didn't quite make the cut... they both felt like they meant well, but they weren't his to protect nor were they people he felt he could work well alongside. That didn't stop him trying to cooperate, however.

Like right now.

It was about a month since Maul had been given his gift from his homeworld, and his reworked tattoos... which didn't really make all that big a difference to Bucky's untrained eye, unaware as he knew himself to be of the deeper meaning of the intricate patterns in Dathomiri culture. Finally, the Jedi had allowed the former-Sith out of confinement, under close observation, so long as he wore a hooded robe to conceal his appearance when in the more public areas.

Three days of freedom, so far, and no incidents.

That was better than Bucky's own record, after the Blip. He had skipped town on this therapist twice, and come extremely close to killing a few former HYDRA puppets (but ended up just intimidating them into turning themselves in), before Sam had all but blackmailed him into cooperating with the process.

Today, Bucky, Windu, and Maul had made their way to one of the training salles, and locked the doors to allow them privacy.

"I want to see what both of you can do with a weapon," Windu announced. "These lightsabers are designed for training, permanently set to a low power level that merely stings when it makes contact, causing no damage."

Maul promptly began examining the weapons available, and picked out one of the larger handles, which lit up yellow. It only had the one blade, but the hilt was more akin to the handle of a polearm than of a sword.

Bucky allowed him to go first, sparring with Windu, who was clearly holding back in the duel as Maul gave it his best. Bucky watched the pair, and analysed their combat styles. Windu was restrained and calculating, watching and striking when it suited him best.

Maul lived up to his name, with flurries of hard and heavy blows, fuelled by a honed and focused rage that put Bucky fondly in mind of the story he had heard, and surveillance footage he had been shown, of SHIELD Agent Melinda May, who had used an Asgardian weapon, to spectacular effect... and Maul's duelling style mirrored that Berserker rage with a kind of fluid grace that spoke of a great deal of practice but little direct experience. Bucky wistfully wondered how well the Zabrak would perform if given that weapon. Would he have the emotional fortitude to handle it, or would it make him sloppy in spite of boosting his strength?

When Windu roundly defeated Maul, and gave a formal bow, which Maul mimicked with only a little confusion and hesitation, Bucky stepped up to take Maul's place.

He had picked out a smaller lightsaber; a blue blade shot out, not very much longer than some of his old favourite knives. Windu allowed him to take a moment and get used to the unfamiliar weapon - it had no weight in the blade, but the hilt did seem designed to help make up for some of the imbalance he had anticipated.

When he was ready, he flipped it around into a reverse grip, as he preferred to wield his knives, and took a ready stance, gesturing for Windu to begin.

At first it was a standoff, as both seemed to prefer to let the other make the first move. Eventually, Windu stepped forward with a blatantly broadcast swing that seemed more testing than anything else.

Bucky stepped back and to the side, evading it without much effort, and held back waiting.

Windu moved again, faster this time, and Bucky dodged once more. This pattern repeated for another half-dozen swings of Windu's blade, before Bucky finally decided to catch it on his 'knife' and redirect the blow. An amateur might be thrown off-balance, but as he expected, it didn't work on the Jedi Master.

Finally, Bucky moved in, a swipe towards Windu's abdomen, fully expecting a dodge or parry. Instead, Windu blocked and their blades held in a clash for more than a second, before Bucky stepped back. Bucky frowned at that; sword fighting, in his experience, was never about blocking, really - dodge, parry, redirect, misdirect. But maybe Jedi do things differently.

"It's impressive you haven't already put an eye out," Maul declared, sounding amused. "Only Force-wielders are supposed to be able to handle lightsabers."

"A blade is a blade," Bucky retorted, before darting forwards and swiping again at Windu's flank; a feint that led to a real swipe at the wrist holding Windu's weapon. This time, Windu evaded both. "I can adapt."

"Yes, and I would like to see your best effort, Mr Barnes," Windu answered him, with a casual swing of his lightsaber that, had they not been in the midst of a duel, might almost be misinterpreted as a playful swat. Bucky dodged it without even the need to think about it.

"If you're sure..." Bucky said, giving Windu plenty of time to change his mind, and when he didn't Bucky shrugged slightly, trying to brush off how uncomfortable he was with the idea. He was working with a non-lethal weapon, it should be fine, right?

Then he took a half-step back, both physically and mentally... into the cold, and the dark. Brought the icy focus and hollow, predatory calculation that people called the Winter Soldier to the fore.

Windu was startled by the sudden, vicious assault, but his reflexes were impressive, and he was able to keep up his guard and block each blow. At first he lost ground quickly, retreating for four full steps, before he rallied and retaliated properly.

Windu's fighting style shifted to compensate, turning into something more aggressive and fluid. Bucky would almost think it looked like Windu was taking a kind of pleasure in the violence of the duel, were he not so sure the Jedi considered themselves above such things.

Even to Bucky it all became a blur from there, both of them moving faster than unenhanced eyes would be able to follow. A whirl of instinct and violent precision, on both their parts. It was as if Windu could just about predict his movements, and keep up with his steps. Almost like a dance within the blur of lightsaber blades.

He lost track of time, in a haze of blue and violet light... and he only came back to himself when he felt a sharp pain across his face.

He froze, and so did Windu.

The two of them stood side by side, Bucky's right arm held out across Windu's body, the 'knife' pressed against his abdomen to the hilt. The 'lightsaber' was active, but not a trace of its blue light was visible.

Not necessarily a killing blow with a normal knife, though sepsis and all its implications might finish the job... and he really wasn't sure what effect a fully functional lightsaber would have there, either. Would it cauterise? Would that reduce the dangers of infection and blood loss? Or would it burn up more than just the entry-wound and do serious internal damage? He didn't know, because he hadn't spent time studying the properties of real lightsabers yet. That was going on his to-do list.

Meanwhile, in a simultaneous strike, Windu held his own longer blade up near Bucky's throat; an attempted decapitating blow that Bucky had instinctively moved to evade, and instead it had glanced at his jaw when he hadn't been quite fast enough.

Bucky started to laugh as they both disengaged, deactivating their weapons and stepping apart. He was immediately reminded of his recent reading of the story of Revan and Malak, as his (metal) hand moved up to where the sting of the (purple) training blade echoed on his jawline.

"Most impressive," Windu said quietly, before bowing as he had done to Maul.

Bucky nodded, trying to shake off the laughter, and then returned the bow. "Yeah, you put up a damned good fight, too."

"You were duelling for twenty minutes," Maul observed, a hint of awe in his tone. "I understand, a Force-wielder may enhance their endurance, but...?"

Bucky just grinned at him, deliberately showing too many teeth.

"I was already slightly terrified of you, no need to rub it in," Maul grumbled, half-heartedly glaring at him.

Bucky suddenly realised, as he heard this, that his role with Maul was reversed from what it would have been had he been able to befriend Loki. Bucky had the power between the two of them - both for raw ability and a greater acceptance and understanding of his own freedom and agency - and that was quite an unnerving thought. With Steve, after HYDRA, he'd had neither advantage. With Sam he'd still been unsure of himself. With the kids, there hadn't been that dark understanding of his past. Maul was, in a suddenly very real way, his to help heal.

But then the good mood was shattered, as Maul added, bitterly, "My Master would still obliterate both of you."

---

When the stranger Shmi had found at the city gate woke, they seemed to have no memory.

Shmi tried gently asking after how they found themselves in the desert, but was met only with confusion. When asked for pronouns, they merely shrugged. "Well, I sure look like a man?" but there was no confidence in that statement... and it was the result of a double-check of their own body to determine biology, rather than personal identity.

Shmi had noticed, as she had tended to him before he awoke, the only marks on his body were old lashes on his back. Deep cut, as if the whip were barbed, but old enough to all be fully healed now. Perhaps he simply didn't want to think about the past, rather than truly not recalling it.

There was no sign of a slave-detonator when he was scanned for it, and no fresh wounds, not even of the neat little surgeries the Tatooine people were using to extract their detonators... but still, she got the feeling he was a former-slave all the same. It was the odd duality of his mannerisms that told the story for her. Sometimes arrogant, as if he fancied himself royalty, others small and nervous, as all slaves understood intimately, in spite of his height approaching 1.9 metres.

She chose not to look into it too closely, as he didn't wish to himself... but a picture of a kidnapped, betrayed, or usurped noble, thrown to the slavers, painted itself plainly in her mind all the same.

As his recovery progressed, he regained a voice that turned out to have a refined, upper-class Coruscanti accent, and an ability to carry a perfectly beautiful tune, humming melodies she had never heard before whenever he thought no one was listening.

Whoever he had been before, he was a kind person, eager to help out as soon as he was well enough. Those flashes of arrogance were generally aimed at what he considered obvious mistakes and oversights by the former leadership - sometimes disgust at an injustice, sometimes derision on the Hutts' own terms at ineptitude - as if he knew  he could do better without much effort.

And he did. He quickly took it upon himself to become Shmi's personal assistant, always deferring to her judgement, but also often providing valuable advice, while alleviating a great deal of the workload from her new duties about the local government-building process.

When Shmi was almost unanimously elected Senator for Tatooine, she offered to bring him with her to Coruscant, as one of up to a dozen aides she was encouraged to employ, and he agreed readily enough. In the end, she only hired four others, three of whom - while fully qualified for the job - were parents of Anakin's friends, so that the children could come along and see each other again.

Eventually, as their transport ship flew towards the Core, sick of failing to recall his true name, and needing one for official paperwork, her mysterious stranger had a datapad produce a list of random names that were not in use on holonet record, and picked one.

Sam Kisgart.

---

Chapter Text

---

Ships pass in the night.

Senator Shmi Skywalker and her delegation arrived on Coruscant at the sixth hour in the morning, precisely eighty-four minutes after the Jedi frigate Metis  took off with a full archaeological expedition for Knowhere.

The Senator's young assistant, Sam Kisgart, spent almost two full minutes just standing there on the landing platform, staring into space, unknowingly in the direction the Jedi ship had gone, until his companions caught his attention and they continued on their business. He just felt... like there was something he was missing, here.

Aboard the Metis , Maul felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and turned to glare back the way they had come. Hyperspace be damned, he felt watched .

The recently Knighted Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi tilted his head, evidently getting at least some hint of the same feeling. "What is it?" he asked Maul.

"It feels as if... we should have waited," Maul spoke his feelings before knowing them, frowning as he did so. "The farther I am from that world, from Sidious, the happier I will be, and yet..." He shook his head.

And yet, there was something, and he could not quite place it. A connection through the Force, as if something were tugging gently on the thread of his fate. Not a suggestion to go back. He had felt such impulses from the Force before, and this was not that. Just the intense feeling that it might have gone very differently and not at all badly if they had waited.

For what, he did not know.

"I think I feel the same, but..." Kenobi shook his head, as well. "It seems as if it's... not urgent, simply there?"

"Precisely," Maul agreed, scowling deeply at the rear bulkhead of the ship.

Suddenly, the feeling dissipated, as if whoever it was watching them had finally turned away. Maul stood sharply, and stalked away. Kenobi followed, like the good little jailor the Jedi pretended he could be. "Where are we going?" he asked amiably.

"I want to see the whole ship, before we arrive," Maul answered curtly. He did not elaborate on the fact he was checking their security, their weak points, everything an enemy would use to assault them... because he knew the Jedi would take it the wrong way. But he knew he would not find restful sleep until he was confident that his position was secure, and a thorough sweep of the ship was the closest to secure he would be able to get on a moving vessel.

Maul was well aware of the concept of archaeology; Sidious has employed such specialists to track down valuable Sith artefacts. Maul had once been ordered to kill one of said specialists, as the details of their missions were for Sidious alone... but usually they were considered beneath such efforts, in Sidious' eyes - much lesser servants could dispose of them easily enough.

Maul had never been directly involved in an archaeological expedition, however. It didn't sound at all in the region of his areas of expertise, and as such he found it a comforting direction to move towards. Even if his survival were suspected, Sidious would never expect him to eschew violent pursuits for the historical.

He had no idea what half of the equipment in the hold was for, but a lot of it looked delicate and highly specialised for a single purpose. Since that purpose was not pain or death, however, he had never been educated on the subject. He had just judged this cargo bay secure, and was preparing to move on, Kenobi still trudging in his wake, when Barnes entered from the far door.

It took all of two seconds for Maul to recognise the same perimeter-securing behaviour in the human. And he clearly did  still register Maul as a threat, even though they were allied for the time being. Then Barnes' gaze fell on Kenobi, and he grinned, nodding a brief greeting to Maul before asking Kenobi directly, in an amicable tone, "I heard you're a Jedi Knight, now. How's that work?"

Maul glanced at Kenobi, also curious. He had never known the details of the inner rituals of the Jedi, only their strengths and weaknesses as he may eventually face them in combat... and he somewhat doubted it at all mirrored his own ascension from trainee to Sidious' Apprentice.

Kenobi took a deep breath, steadying himself as if the recent memory were not entirely pleasant, before answering. "When a Jedi Master feels they have nothing more to teach their Padawan, the Padawan is expected to take on a series of trials, to prove that they have learned all they need to become a Knight. The Trials are designed to test our skill, strength, and spirit, the latter of which tends to involve facing one's deepest fears, to prove we will not succumb to them."

"And if you fail?" Maul asked, curious.

"I'd say that would be more the Sensei's failure as a teacher, rather than the student's," Barnes put in, unasked. Maul frowned at the word. He had read it once, but it was archaic, used by a few small sects of ancient Jedi, and unaffiliated with other definitions of the more common term of 'Master'. He wondered at where Barnes had picked it up, but he could take a good guess at why the man chose to use it now.

He had heard all about what Barnes had done on Tatooine, after all.

Interestingly, Kenobi blinked, surprised at the suggestion. "Well that is one perspective," he admitted thoughtfully, though there was some doubt in his tone. "Few students see it in that light, however. It is, after all, our own abilities that are being tested." He turned his focus to Maul, and answered directly, "Failure usually means dismissal from further Jedi training. Most choose to join the agricorps, though had I failed, I would not personally have chosen that path."

"No second chances?" Barnes asked dubiously.

Maul snorted derisively. Of course there weren't. However, Kenobi answered, "A second attempt at the Trials is rarely requested... but also even more rarely refused by the Council. Those who fail tend to do so for a reason that they themselves know that they cannot overcome."

That left Maul dumbstruck. The very idea that these Jedi Trials were such that the failing student would... accept  their failure? He couldn't comprehend it.

Barnes, on the other hand, nodded as if he did understand, or at least wanted to. "It isn't a failure as a person, just as a prospective Jedi Knight," he said after a long moment of thought.

Kenobi nodded, smiling. "Just so."

"So I'm guessing the Kobayashi Maru  isn't on the Jedi curriculum," Barnes added with a hint of amusement.

Maul frowned, glancing at Kenobi, who clearly had no better idea than Maul as to what that meant.

"Since I first heard about real  space travel, I've always wanted to own a ship called Kobayashi Maru , just out of spite," Barnes continued, before explaining himself. "It's from a story on Earth about exploring space in the then-imagined not-so-distant future. The organisation in charge of the imagined future's fleet of starships would put their prospective Captains through a simulation, in which they are asked to attempt to rescue a ship called the Kobayashi Maru . It's an unwinnable scenario, designed to test the subject's reaction to inevitable failure. No matter what you do, the simulation would adapt to ensure you cannot both survive and save the other ship or its crew."

Maul scowled. "What would be the benefit of such a test?"

"I would assume, to evaluate what choices one makes when there is no true path to victory, and how one reacts in the face of defeat," Kenobi postulated. "I'm more curious as to why you would want to name your ship after it?"

Barnes grinned. "Isn't it obvious? Challenge me, and expect to lose."

Maul couldn't quiet hold back the bark of laughter at that thought. "Oh, I see it clearly now."

"Quite," Kenobi agreed, arms folded and a faint smile on his face.

"Now, the most important thing to know about the Kobayashi Maru ..." Barnes continued, still grinning just a touch too brightly to be benign. "Is that the hero of the story cheated, by reprogramming the simulation to let him win."

Maul smirked, amused at the premise. A so-called 'hero' breaking the rules, now that did not fit the mould, and somehow he very much liked it.

Kenobi, predictably, frowned and asked, "And how, exactly, does that set a good example?"

"It was a common pattern for the character," Barnes answered, shrugging slightly. "When two equally undesirable options are presented-" here, he gestured with one hand to Maul, then the other to Kenobi, as if to directly imply their respective sides of the Force... "-find, or make  a third option."

Maul and Kenobi shared a look, and it was clear Kenobi understood the sentiment exactly as Maul did. Maul liked the sound of it, but Kenobi looked terribly uncomfortable at the clear insinuation.

Both the Jedi and the Sith were flawed; one failing, blind and weak... the other self-destructive for all its selfishness. It was eerie to feel such judgement passed by a Force-null, and to know truly that the man saw them both with perfect clarity all the same.

Maul had respected Barnes for his martial prowess before, now he felt something else shift in his mind. Here was a man who could, and likely would, reshape the galaxy... and Maul wanted, very much to be a part of that.

---

Anakin returned to the Jedi Temple, accompanied by a newly Knighted Garen Muln, one of Obi-Wan's friends. They had met a few times, and while they weren't fast friends, Anakin still liked the guy just fine... and he needed 'adult supervision' to leave the Temple, so it was either go with Garen or get someone from the Senate to come and fetch him.

He had just gotten to spend the morning with his mom and some of his friends from Tatooine whose parents had come to work for his mom as senatorial aides. It seemed a bit funny to Anakin; officially, his mom outranked her friends now, but practically, they seemed to work as a group to plan things together and she was just the one who spoke to the politicians about it.

It was awesome to hear about how well his homeworld was faring, now the Hutts had been kicked out, and it was great to get to play with his old friends, too; children his own age who he knew well, and who weren't all stuffy like the Initiates at the Temple in his age group. He got on well with the younger kids in his philosophy and writing classes, but those his own age all seemed so distant and cold, like they were trying way too hard to seem like Perfect Jedi  for their prospective Senseis to see.

It had been a fun morning.

But now... "I hope you understand that it was abominably inappropriate to all but throw away your Padawan without even consulting him about Knighthood, for a child who could just as well be taken by any other Master in the Temple," he heard, and stopped dead at the words. He looked up at Garen, who blinked and ushered him into a side alcove, where they could both listen in to the conversation.

It was Qui-Gon's voice that answered the accusation. "Obi-Wan was ready, as you well saw at his trials," he said irritably.

"And are you truly ready for another Padawan so soon?" the other voice asked calmly, yet Anakin could hear the judgement in it. "I am not entirely sure you were ready when you took Obi-Wan in, it was only Master Yoda's... machinations, that even put the two of you together to begin with."

Qui-Gon sighed deeply. "You are correct that I was not ready when I took Obi-Wan in, but he did need a Master."

"I would have offered, had you called me," the other voice said softly. "I wish you had confided in me before I left the Order. I had believed you were recovered enough to cope without me, or I never-"

"I didn't want to talk about it then, and I still don't now."

"So you're still not ready for a new student. Well, that settles it, then. Any Master in the Temple would be happy to train young Skywalker; let them all make their offers, and help him choose the best amongst them. Besides, he's only ten. Padawans can be taken as old as thirteen; give him time to settle in and find the right  Master for himself."

"And do you have any theories on who that may be, my old Master?" Qui-Gon asked dubiously.

"I have a long list... and a shorter one. But those are only my best guesses, based on my memories from before leaving the Order."

"Are you on that list?" Qui-Gon asked slyly.

A soft chuckle. "I don't know if I am quite ready for another student myself. Not after the last one."

A dubious "Hmmm," was all Qui-Gon had to say to that.

The sound of footsteps told Anakin that the two older Jedi retreated further down the hall, and went in separate directions at its end... only then did Garen speak up. "You know, he's not wrong about Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon was definitely not ready to teach again, when he took him in. Obi won't talk about it, but he had a hard time of it, his first few years as a Padawan."

At the dubious look Anakin gave for that, Garen quickly added, "Oh, Qui-Gon's not a bad man, it's just when you're dealing with your own major issues, it's not a good time to have other people depending on you. It does neither you nor the person who needs you any good whatsoever... and Qui-Gon was really  going through some issues when Obi-Wan was right about to age out of being able to become a Padawan. Obi still thinks no one wanted him, but it was Yoda. Yoda wanted Obi to become specifically Qui-Gon's Padawan, so he discouraged the Knights and Senseis who were interested, and actively plotted for the two of them to end up together, even when Qui-Gon tried to refuse."

"Why would Sensei Yoda do that?" Anakin asked, frowning.

"He had a Force vision that Qui-Gon and Obi needed to be together for something big and important. Never told anyone what. I only even know this much because I spy on the Masters, like we just did, all the time."

Anakin grinned at Garen. "Thanks for helping with that, by the way."

Garen grinned right back. "Anytime. So, do you have any idea who you'd like to teach you, once you're ready?"

Anakin shook his head. "I always just assumed it'd be Sensei Qui-Gon," he admitted.

"A Jedi's finder rarely ends up being their Sensei," Garen explained. "It does happen, but not often. Some of the Council think it's a sign of attachment to want the child you found as your student, but there's one guy on the Council who did it, so..." he shrugged.

"I don't know many of the other Knights or Senseis yet," Anakin admitted. "I guess I should try to get to know them, to see who I'd like to teach me."

Garen nodded. "There's usually signs of interest from potential Senseis," he explained. "They'll ask after your studies, offer you odd-jobs around the Temple, generally appear nearby when you're not busy for an innocuous 'chat'. That's them trying to get a feel of if you'd be a suitable student for their teaching style. Based on what Dooku said just now, I'd guess you're going to get it happening a lot, once word gets out that Qui-Gon hasn't already asked you. Plenty of opportunity to test them right back."

Anakin nodded, smiling brightly at the idea. Yes, he was free now. He didn't have to settle for the first person to want him, because they weren't able to just lay claim to him.

They had to ask .

---

The first leg of the trip to Knowhere took only four hours, and they stopped at a major planet called Corellia; a significant hub on the hyperspace lanes, where they only spent an hour or so at the mercy of the star system's traffic control, before moving on again.

Still, it was a breathtaking view.

Corellia had large patches of city, but also large swathes of green and blue reminiscent of Earth in many ways. It also had a ring of metal build in orbit around it; a fine shimmering band barely visible from where they jumped in... the apparently famous shipyard that Bucky had read about.

From Corellia, they took a lesser-travelled hyperspace lane around the 'southern' side of the galactic core ('north', 'south', 'east', and 'west', in this case, were mostly defined by the map-makers, since that was not  how gravity and magnetism worked on a galactic scale). By the map of the galaxy that Bucky had downloaded, he wondered why they hadn't gone straight across the 'northern' side of the core, seeing as Coruscant was to the 'north' to begin with, but Obi-Wan explained to him that hyperspace lanes allowed you to move far faster where they were most used, and they would get to the furthest viable hyperspace lane in less than a week, while traversing the northern side of the galaxy would take them over a month to get to the same distance away from their goal.

Apparently, the Corellian Run, which had brought them most of the way from Tatooine to Coruscant, and now back down from Coruscant to Corellia, was the most used hyperspace lane by a very  wide margin. The other lanes they would be travelling where significantly slower, but still far preferable than plotting you're own hyperspace jump without an already known lane.

Those lanes only took them halfway out towards the 'western' side of the galaxy, stopping over in a few more star systems along the way, each somehow managing to convey a less cosmopolitan and more rural feel, the further they got from the core (in spite of being, you know, in space )... before they reached the officially labelled 'unknown regions' and had to make shorter jumps in fits and starts, through barely-charted territory. No planetary hubs, just open space at each stop.

Then finally, after just over two months of travel, they dropped out of hyperspace at Knowhere itself.

Maul let out a low whistle upon seeing the structure, and Bucky couldn't blame him.

It was shaped like a skull... and, from the readouts on the pilot's screens, about half the size of Earth's moon.

"What was it?" Maul asked, awed.

"A Celestial," Cosmo answered, her tail down between her legs to indicate her discomfort at being here. "One of the bigger ones. No one knows what happened to its body, and there is no record of what it looked like with flesh or skin on its face. Long before the Collector first claimed it, the skull was already being mined for its petrified brain matter; a range of valuable minerals could be extracted from the 'ore'. There was still some left in the occipital lobe, when I was last free to roam the station there."

"It's going to take years  to get through the whole settlement," one of Cordova's team said with what sounded like enthusiasm... as opposed to the dread Bucky was beginning to feel at the prospect.

"Well, then, we'd better get started, hadn't we," Cordova declared. "If you would bring us in, Knight Kenobi? I believe your report indicated that you did not  deactivate the defence systems."

"No, but Master Jinn was wise enough to reprogram them to allow clearance with a code," Obi-Wan said with a smile, settling into the co-pilot's seat and beginning the landing procedure.

---

As the archaeologists unloaded their equipment, Bucky noticed a robot - or 'droid', as they seemed to be called - being unpacked like all the other tools. It was humanoid, with a chrome finish, and when it was booted up the place where humans would have eyes glowed yellow, before it pottered off and started helping with the rest of the unloading work.

"Hey, Kenobi?" Bucky said, sidling up to the Jedi.

"Yes?" he replied distractedly looking at a datapad.

"What's the deal with droids?" Bucky asked.

Obi-Wan looked up at him curiously. "Oh, I had assumed you were familiar with such things. You did recognise them on Naboo, even if you had a different word for them."

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, then shrugged slightly. "They weren't common in my time," he hedged, not really wanting to bring up Ultron or how terrified the populace was at the idea of a repeat performance. "And I'm sure things change."

"Well, droids are very common these days; I'm sure you saw a few on Coruscant as well?"

"Yes."

"This model is a protocol droid. Capable of some minor manual labour, as you can see... but primarily designed to provide cultural and linguistic assistance. They're nothing like the battle droids you encountered on Naboo."

"Are they artificial intelligence, or virtual intelligence?" Bucky asked with a thoughtful frown, as they both watched the protocol droid sort through a box of tools and recommend suitable storage options for the contents to the archaeologists it was working with.

Obi-Wan frowned at the question, clearly unsure. "Well, I believe the answer is generally 'virtual intelligence'. There are very strict laws prohibiting the deliberate development of true artificial sentience, originally enacted in the Republic after the fall of the Eternal Empire. On the other hand, some droids do have a tendency to develop personality over time, if left without adequate maintenance... and there are some historical records of Jedi being able to identify these 'eccentric' droids as trace presences in the Force, where we cannot sense a more well-maintained droid at all."

"Of course, once they're sentient, well... sentient rights and moral judgement needs to be brought into play. The Jedi Temple employs a droid that has been running unaltered for the last twenty-five thousand years; he is the reason some of our records that far back were not lost when others were, and he has a genuine love  of teaching that discourages us from the usual concerns. A more negative example might be Revan's droid, which was also considered sentient. HK-47 wasn't exactly a, ah, shining example of what most people want out of such technology."

"No kidding," Bucky grumbled. Revan's droid hadn't been featured highly in the old stories, but it had been mentioned in passing to be bloodthirsty, to say the least.

"I get the feeling you asked for reasons along those lines?" Obi-Wan asked curiously.

"Yeah." Bucky folded his arms, a bit defensively, as he thought about it. "In my time, there was an artificial intelligence that tried to wipe out all life on our planet, because it decided that was the only way to achieve 'peace'. Its combat drones were, well... let's just say they were far more effective than the battle droids on Naboo."

"Ah," was all Obi-Wan said to that.

Bucky wasn't quite sure why he felt like he shouldn't name the offending robot uprising. It was a form of superstition he didn't feel comfortable submitting to, so he chose quite deliberately to add. "If we find anything in this place labelled 'Ultron'... keep it away from the tech."

"We will certainly take that under advisement," Obi-Wan agreed with a solemn nod.

---

The team began their work in the lower levels. The main city. It felt very much like the sort of disaster-town that was run by a pack of vagabonds who didn't know how to properly plan anything.

Once the initial surveys of the landing bay and its immediately surrounding commons were completed, Bucky, Maul, and Obi-Wan helped with setting up living space for the team in some of the old worker housing. The plan was to rotate who was staying on the ship and who was out on the station throughout the mission... though the landing bay had been large enough to comfortably house the entire frigate, in spite of Cordova's expectations to the contrary.

Bucky set himself up in a small apartment above what was once an engineer's garage. It was directly off the docking bay, and had access to one of the upper level walkways, where he had an excellent view over the entire area. A sniper's paradise, with nothing worth shooting at... perfect to get a good idea of what was being studied on any given day, just by looking out from the balcony.

Once the archaeologists cleared out the garage, Bucky set it up as a gym. Obi-Wan and Cordova were the only two actual Jedi on the expedition, though several of the archaeologists had once been Temple Initiates who failed to become Padawans, or chose this different path. Cordova wasn't the sparring type, preferring to practise his lightsaber forms as a private meditation, which left Bucky with Maul and Obi-Wan, who both joined him for daily training sessions.

The two young men were highly skilled and well-trained, but there was always more to learn. Even in his role as the more experienced of the three, Bucky still learned new techniques from these sessions, as well.

Maul's aggression was a minor issue; he tended to get in their faces when he was pumped up from the fight, almost acting like a predatory animal on occasion, but he would always calm down again when his attempts to push the friendly spar too far were rebuffed. When not fighting, his intelligence would shine through, proving he was far more than the killing-machine his Master had tried to make him. He was not  malleable or gullible. He listened, but he thought  about what he heard, instead of simply assimilating it. Like Bucky, he had complied with his previous conditioning out of necessity, not because he had agreed with any of it. Well... he still considered himself a Sith, but that wasn't a problem in Bucky's opinion the way it was in Obi-Wan's.

Obi-Wan, meanwhile, started out very stiff and uncomfortable with the looser rules on the expedition as compared to the Temple, but he adapted quickly, and soon began to thrive, revealing a biting and sarcastic wit to match his British accent perfectly.

The actual archaeological work was slow going, because the team wanted to catalogue everything . It took over a month just to get past this area immediately surrounding the landing bay, even with Cosmo getting impatient, and coming out to tell them exactly  what everything was, since the Collector seemed not to have changed it since she had lived here.

Things settled quickly into a comfortable collaborative routine. They had a small supply freighter visit every month, to drop off more food, and occasionally switch out team members, and they kept on picking away at the massive structure and every tiny scrap of its historical significance... or lack thereof.

It took over a year for the work to reach the Collector's palace... and they started, frustratingly predictably, on the first rooms they reached, which housed plant 'exhibits'. Samples were duly taken of everything they could find, some shipped back for further study on the supply ship, others merely catalogued on the Metis .

Bucky joined the team when they finally progressed to the fauna exhibits, and helped Cosmo in pointing out anything he recognised.

Over the following few months they discovered that Jotun were common ancestors of Zabrak and Pantorans, though there was a lot of other  DNA that had gotten into the two 'modern' species in the intervening time... and they found a Kree soldier who proved to also be related to Pantorans, as well as Twi'lek.

Most of the species here, however, were not connected to anything on the Galactic database.

Svartalfar, for example. Not a trace.

The next major stage of the project began at the turn of the second year of the expedition, and it was the 'artefacts' rooms.

There were so many artefacts, and most of them from worlds Bucky had never even heard of. All unique, of course. Unique seemed to be the qualifying variable to join the Collection, with 'last of its kind' being a close second. Many were mundane; the crown of the regent of the Shi'ar Empire, for example... very pretty, but he'd never heard of them, and neither had Cosmo.

Bucky did find one thing he really wanted, though.

"Can I have this?" he asked Cordova, as he paused by the display case.

The crimson paint was mostly flaked off, leaving almost entirely bare metal... and there were three perfectly parallel scratches along the left side that Bucky had a good guess as to the origins of... but the label identified what he had already been sure of on sight.

Magneto's helmet.

Cordova gave him a dubious look.

"It's historically and culturally very significant to me," he said... not entirely true, but close. "I once met the man who made and wore it. He was a great leader on Earth; many people considered him a hero." He carefully omitted just how many also considered him a monster.

"It looks almost Mandalorian," Obi-Wan observed. "Not quite; the visor's a bit too open."

"Magneto was a great man," Bucky said, mentally adding the quote... 'terrible, but great'.

"Once we catalogue it, you can put in a request on grounds of cultural significance," Cordova conceded. "Those are very rarely denied, and only for extremely dangerous artefacts."

Bucky tried not to sulk. Magneto's helmet wasn't technically dangerous... it just blocked telepathy... both ways. Oh, how he wanted it, given the number of telepaths around these days.

As the Jedi moved on, Bucky lingered, staring at the helmet... and Maul spoke to him in a low whisper. "I can't read your mind, but I have learned your body-language. Culture be damned, you want it for tactical purposes... and yet, you don't actually think it's dangerous. I don't understand."

Bucky glanced at Maul, a faint smirk crossing his face as he explained, "Magneto's best friend and greatest enemy... was a telepath. He built this helmet with self-defence in mind."

Maul's eyes positively lit up as he put those pieces together and came to the obvious conclusion.

Both the Jedi and Maul's own Master would find themselves at great and confusing disadvantage, should they attempt to confront someone who wore that helmet.

"There are only two other artefacts this hellscape of a museum might hold that I'd want more," Bucky added quietly, as much to himself as to Maul. And those items were a sling ring; he'd love to see if either Anakin or Cosmo could manage to use it... or Steve's shield.

---

Chapter Text

---

Change was slow, especially in an organisation as comfortable with its traditions as the Jedi Order, but it had begun.

After much discussion (read: argument) within the Jedi Council, New Initiates were now allowed to be taken in at any age. It had taken Yoda and Windu pushing quite firmly, to convince the more conservative Masters that this was a worthy change, to protect potential Initiates from falling to the Dark Side purely for not having been found by the Jedi quite young enough. The fact that they had already accepted Cosmo, who was apparently over twenty-five millennia old, made it a painfully hypocritical proposal to pick any age limit, even around legal age of majority as many had pushed for.

Master Mundi had insisted on the proviso that these older Initiates would be required to accept a year of purely philosophical study with the same Master who had learned from teaching Cosmo, on top of all the usual expectations of educational standards to be achieved before they could be taken as Padawans.

In the months that followed the announcement of this change, several dozen beings had voluntarily presented themselves to the Temple, even before the Masters could plan some way to go out searching for any such older Initiates. From a middle-aged pirate, moderately well-known for his insanely good 'luck', asking their help to go straight... to young adults who had first manifested their Force affinity in their late teens; apparently a more common occurrence than many on the Council had thought... to teenagers running away from unkind families that had refused to turn them over to the Order in infancy.

The second change to be made by the Order was that Masters were now encouraged to take on up to three Padawans at a time, so as to discourage Initiate dropout. Knights were still restricted to a single Padawan, as the Order had always valued that first student as a learning process in and of itself. The new rules also encouraged - but not quite forced - those who took multiple and/or older Padawans to spend more time at the Temple studying, rather than gallivanting off on missions across the galaxy.

A few months after that announcement, everyone in the Temple was introduced to a series of lectures and classes, run by Master Qui-Gon Jinn, about the virtue of seeing alternative perspectives, even - and perhaps especially - when you disagreed with them. This was far beyond basic diplomacy classes, and aimed at seeing one's own flaws as well as the benefits of other viewpoints, up to and including some of the less dangerous Sith texts that Maul had discussed with Master Jinn before his departure.

The Council also began to examine more closely all requests from the Senate, Master Dooku being brought in to all such Council meetings, to offer his drastically more critical opinion. A pattern was emerging, proving Dooku to be correct about the kind of corrupt groups who tended to request Jedi aid when they were in fact the cause of the problem.

The newly elected Chancellor, Sheev Palpatine of Naboo, pledged his open support to the Jedi in their efforts to root out corruption wherever it may be found.

More experienced Jedi than would have previously been chosen now tended to be sent to investigate these potentially duplicitous matters, with the mandate to subtly examine all avenues, rather than just the obvious. Evidence of an external, disruptive influence in most of these cases was beginning to emerge, and while there was no way to prove it was the Sith Lord, suspicions were rising.

Meanwhile, an established Jedi presence on Kamino worked to ensure that this Sith failed to gain any influence over their best defence against the galaxy-scale war that most of the Masters were beginning to literally feel coming, now that they had opened their minds up to Master Sifo-Dyas' warnings. They oversaw the education and living conditions of the young clones, softening the military bent of their shortened childhood, with compassion and kindness... and kept a watchful eye out for external influence from any angle.

Unknown to the Jedi, they were too late to prevent such interference.

Jango Fett was very happy to have been paid twice... to pass on blueprints for a specialised type of inhibitor chip to the Kaminoan scientists, and then to keep his damned mouth shut about it right under the di'kutla Jetii's  noses, while he performed his official service to the Republic as the template for the clone army.

---

Anakin was approaching the ideal age to be taken as a Padawan, and he had been thinking quite carefully about who should be his Sensei, ever since that conversation with Garen almost three years ago.

He sat in the main reception room of his mom's suite in the Senate building, eating dinner with the entire Tatooine senatorial team and their children. He had worked carefully on his 'attachment issues', as the Jedi Council called them. Part of the recent changes to the Jedi rules included allowing attachments to be released more gradually, instead of just isolating Initiates from their families from day one. Apparently someone  had gone and explained to the Council how that could be considered traumatic and cruel.

Everyone here was close to Anakin, but he had studied hard and worked through the Jedi philosophies on how to accept the inevitable future without dulling the joy of the present. Everyone passes into the Force eventually, this was an immutable fact. Life was in the moments before that happened, and so long as he was prepared to accept loss when it came, he could enjoy those moments.

He was mostly  at peace with this delicate balance. There were only two people in this room he didn't think he could accept the death of, even if he really didn't want any of them to leave... and one of those two had less to do with emotional attachment and more to do with a Force vibe he got off them.

Right now, he was telling his friends about his options for a Sensei.

"Qui-Gon Jinn and Sifo-Dyas are two of the best offers I've had," he was saying, "But I have to admit, I kind of like Count Dooku, even if he is considered... 'unorthodox'."

"You mean because  he's considered unorthodox," Mr Kisgart said with a light laugh that clearly told he was on the side of that sentiment.

Anakin grinned, not denying it for a second.

"Ani, don't the Jedi say you ought to follow what you feel is right?" Phold Wald, his friend Wilt's father, asked gently. "That the Force manifests as instinct, in those who can sense it? What do you feel  about your options?"

Anakin shifted is his seat, trying to turn off the thinking  part of his brain, so he could do the feeling  kind of thing, like he'd been taught. It wasn't always easy. Sometimes an instinct screamed  at him, others there was nothing but the facts sitting there. Now felt somewhere in-between. "I feel like no one who's offered sets off that 'yes, this one!' instinct. They're all great Jedi, most of them have past Padwans who are great Jedi, but none of them feel just right."

"Perhaps the perfect teacher hasn't asked you, yet?" Kitster piped up.

Anakin thought about that, then nodded slowly. "Maybe, but what if they never do?"

"So how about; which one who has  asked feels best?" Wilt asked, glancing at his dad to see a nod and smile of approval for the wise question.

Anakin thought some more, head tilting off to the side as he considered it. "Dooku. Definitely Dooku." He nodded firmly. "So... if someone who feels really  right asked, I should accept... if not, choose Dooku?"

"That sound very wise, Ani," his mom said with a warm smile.

"Or... if someone who feels really  right happens to walk past, you  could ask them?" Mr Kisgart suggested, hiding a smirk behind his glass of wine.

Light laughter echoed around the room, but Anakin took the suggestion to heart, and added it in as step two in his little list of options.

---

There are few secrets that can be kept by a general Jedi Council meeting; everything tends to get out into the gossip of the Temple. There are a few more secrets that might be kept, if only a few Council members know them. The gossip doesn't emerge from them specifically, but word still does eventually get out.

When Masters Windu and Yoda get a conspiracy into their heads, secrets are far more likely to stay secret.

But there is always a sufficiently talented individual capable of rooting out any secret, and one such individual, gifted with the power of psychometry, was Jedi Knight Quinlan Vos.

Quinlan was a clan-mate of Obi-Wan Kenobi, raised in the same creche, but while Kenobi had been held back by Qui-Gon's refusal first to train him then to let him go, Quinlan had been taken as a Padawan at ten, Knighted at eighteen, and taken his own ten-year-old Padawan just two years later. He was one of those branded 'bad with attachments' types who chose to train his own foundling, having brought her into the Temple, out of a terrible situation, when she was only two.

There was a kind of rite of passage for Knights whose first Padawan reached their own Knighting. There had been a very quiet and proper to-do about it, just three months ago, when she finally had her ceremony. Quinlan had been a bit sad that not all his age-mates had been available to attend, but the event as a whole had still been a highlight in his Jedi career thus far.

A lot of outsiders thought this was how you got to be a Master, but that wasn't it at all. No, the title of Master came from that and  a string of other achievements that Quinlan absolutely had not attained yet. But he'd finally been able to do a solo mission for the first time since his own first-mission-as-a-Knight, right about the same time as he'd sent his Padawan off for her first solo assignment.

He had actually been approached by the Shadows, for this mission... and he had just got back from it, this very morning. The mission in question had gone hopelessly, hilariously wrong, and lasted over two months when it was supposed to last less than two days... and he had been hoping to have some more lighthearted fun around the Temple now that he was home.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, all his usual co-conspirators were absent. His old Master Tholme was out on a mission, and his former-Padawan Aayla was busy with a project involving the new 'elder Initiates'. His best friend was all the way out in the Unknown Regions, doing who knew what with the dusty old archaeologists.

This meant that Quinlan was bored... and when he got bored he went digging into places he shouldn't. It was why the Shadows had recruited him; he was just too good at that sort of thing. So he set himself to investigating the root cause of the recent changes in the Jedi Order. These changes were drastic by the standards he'd grown up with, even if he did see only positive results so far.

He was especially curious about the Sith texts.

So he went along and attended one such class, then at the end he waited for everyone else to leave, went up to the lecture desk and rooted out one of the datapads containing Master Jinn's notes on said Sith texts. He took off one glove, and placed his palm on the datapad, focusing to enhance his psychometric powers, until he saw something beyond the text itself.

Master Jinn was afraid. Images of that Darksider who had attacked the Queen of Naboo flickered through his vision. The official story was that the Sith was dead, but in the vision he was talking  to Master Jinn. Warnings about just how dangerous the Sith's own Master was.

"Know your enemy," Master Jinn said in answer, as he prepared the lesson plan.

Quinlan got the distinct feeling, from this vision, that Obi-Wan knew about this. He carefully returned the datapad to its place, and promptly went off to volunteer for the next supply run to Knowhere.

---

The expedition on Knowhere took another two months cataloguing the artefacts rooms, and Bucky was, during that time, granted ownership of Magneto's helmet. Sadly, no sling ring nor star spangled shield were anywhere to be found. No Berserker Staff, either; the only Asgardian artefact was a very large, spiky black crown that the Jedi (and Bucky's general common sense) firmly declared Dark Side, dangerous, and worth locking several dozen different ways up. Even Maul wasn't foolish enough to try messing with it.

Finally, after nearly three years of nigh-obsessively diligent archaeological work, they made their way to the command centre of the Collector's palace... and Bucky froze in horror at what he saw there.

Exposed, just sitting out on the desk, where any idiot could have walked over and touched it, all this time, was one of the Infinity Stones.

The orange one... Soul, right? Yes, he was pretty sure the orange one was Soul.

One of the archaeological team did indeed start heading over there, but yelped in shock as she was levitated off the ground by her ankle.

"No!" Cosmo barked at her. "Bad human, do not  touch the unidentified glowing rock!"

"It's hardly unidentified," Bucky grumbled darkly.

Cosmo glanced his way, and shrugged. "To them it is." She let the poor scientist down gently, and moved to stand between the group and the Stone, facing them directly, her stance low as she set to guard it against any further attempts to take it. "That is a very dangerous artefact, and now I realise we should never have come here," she declared clearly to them all.

"If not us, someone else would eventually have shown up to loot this place," Cordova said calmly. "There are a few known pirate outposts less than ten parsecs from here. I'm honestly a little surprised we got here first."

"Look, these things are not  easy to contain," Bucky spoke up. "And they are incredibly  dangerous."

"Things... plural?" Maul asked, grinning in spite of his evident concern about the danger level.

"No, we are not  going to explain the details," Cosmo retorted, with a slight baring of her teeth for emphasis. "Those who know eventually get stupid treasure-hunting ideas, and just no." She punctuated that last word with a sharp bark and a flexing of her front claws.

The Stone chose that moment to start glowing brighter, and a flare of orange light danced out from it, towards Cosmo. Bucky shouted out, trying to warn her, but the brilliant flash of amber light swept over her, and suddenly the Stone had moved.

It was no longer on the table in the centre of the room... instead it was inset into Cosmo's collar... and she looked a little startled, but otherwise unharmed.

"Oh, that was... interesting," she declared. "Like the old curse about times, interesting," she added sitting down to scratch at the collar a bit.

"What happened?!" Bucky asked, taking a cautious step closer to her.

She sat up straighter, carefully regarding her audience. "Well..."

---

The brilliant flash of light engulfed Cosmo, and she found herself in a strange otherworldly place, with a thin layer of water stretching as far as the eye could see. The water, oddly, was not wet. It didn't seep up her fur or even feel damp to her paws as she stood in it.

Then her hackles raised at the feel of a presence behind her, and she turned.

It was a girl; one of the children who used to play fetch with her in the streets of Moscow, before the experiments.

The girl smiled warmly, and beckoned Cosmo over. Cosmo trotted tentatively a few steps, but not quite close enough to be touched.

"Where am I?"

"I wanted to meet the person who was wise enough to wish me kept hidden, protected from those like the Titan finding me again. I sensed sincerity, and no desire to ever use me."

"So you are the Soul Stone?" she asked. The girl nodded, and Cosmo asked, "Do you know what that face means to me?"

Another nod. "I don't have a face of my own, so I tend to borrow memories."

"How did you end up here?" Cosmo asked.

"The Collector found me, and he was searching for my siblings. When I realised he was close to succeeding, I decided he needed to be stopped. I don't have many ways of doing that, so... I ate him." She grimaced with distaste as she said this, like it was a desperate and very unpleasant measure she had felt obliged to take, rather than anything she would have preferred to choose.

"You... ate him?"

"I have the ability to consume souls. It's not very nice. Death is a lot nicer, but we both know it doesn't stick with that... man." The way she said 'man' made it sound very much like she thought it was far too nice a word for the Collector. "So... I ate him. He can never return from that."

Cosmo bobbed her head, accepting of this in spite of it indeed not being a nice way of dealing with the situation... it seemed to have been the only way.

"So why did you want to speak to me?" she asked, instead.

"I would like to choose you as my guardian." The figure of the girl sat down in front of Cosmo, the water having no visible effect on her dress as she settled in it. "You would be tasked with keeping people from acquiring me or using me."

Cosmo stared. "An Infinity Stone wants to pick me  as their guardian?"

"I can make myself seem completely innocuous. Those not in the know would think me a very cheap gem, if not mere glass, in your possession. Not worth stealing unless they knew my true identity. Both in thanks for service and to aid said service, I would grant you access to some of my powers; the ability to sense the nature of a soul, light or dark, kind or cruel. The ability to recognise a soul even if its body is perfectly disguised, or even reincarnated. The ability to shock a soul with a touch, to fend off those reaching for me - that doesn't cause permanent harm, but even the most physically resilient would be stunned temporarily by it."

Cosmo took her time to think about it, then slowly nodded. "If it will keep others from using you, it would be my honour."

---

"It... ate... this Collector you spoke so fearfully of?" Obi-Wan asked, outright shocked.

"I believe that  is what's left of him," Cosmo nodded to the desk, and sure enough there was a skeleton slumped beside it... so ancient it was practically crumbling. "As soon as Soul realised he was on track to find Time, she decided enough was enough and he had to be stopped."

"Time?" Barnes asked, frowning. "Please tell me its location isn't saved somewhere on these old computers?"

"Oh, it probably is," Cosmo nodded. "I trust you-" she nodded to Barnes, "- and only you - to delete it."

After a glance at the Jedi, who both seemed to understand at least a fraction of the severity of the situation - enough to allow him to proceed instead of protesting the loss of valuable knowledge - Barnes approached the desk cautiously, and glanced down at the console set into it. "Might not have to... this thing looks so ancient, a good kick might just turn it to dust."

Yet he tried to activate it, anyway.

"Please, if you can, only  delete the one dangerous item of information," Cordova pleaded, taking two swift steps forward, but not actually approaching close enough to look at the console himself. "There is so much we can still learn from this place."

Obi-Wan noticed a middle-aged Rodian member of Cordova's team lean close to Maul, and stage-whisper, "He said that about Darth Thanaton's tomb, too..." causing the Zabrak to snort with laughter. It was well-known that nothing good came out of that  place. Thanaton had been a paranoid piece of work who had saved nothing of value for his tomb... except every form of death-trap known in his time.

'There is no great treasure nor knowledge here, only death'  had been inscribed over the entrance, and by all accounts the place had kept well to that word.

Obi-Wan, however, did feel like Knowhere was different. The Collector may have valued things other than material wealth, yet surely there would be knowledge to accompany his idea of 'treasure', otherwise what was the worth of keeping it?

---

Bucky read the data on the screen, recognising as he did so that it was in a language he had never seen before (and he had seen quite a few since waking up in this new time). The Allspeak translated it just fine, but that didn't stop him seeing what it really looked like as well as how it was interpreted through the spell.

It charted a course between galaxies.

The journey began near Xandar, and intended to travel at super-light speeds to... this galaxy they were in now, by the looks of it. Except, the super-light-speed engines had died at the same time as the Collector had, not long after entering the void between galaxies. And there were anomalous readings - completely unidentified and unexplained shifts that made no sense - throughout the time spent between galaxies.

Yet, the computer was sure that they had reached the right galaxy.

He looked at the intended destination, and then at the galactic map on his own datapad. The planet upon which the Collector (and the Soul Stone, apparently) believed the Time Stone to reside... was called Dathomir.

Maul's homeworld.

He remembered the familiar shade of emerald green light shimmering around the gift Maul received from his people, and shuddered in horror at the implication that the Time Stone must be active there... perhaps a holy artefact to their culture? Perhaps a useful tool as the Masters of the Mystic Arts had seen it?

He carefully avoided looking up at anyone - lest he unintentionally look at Maul in a telling way - as he deleted the target location from the Collector's computer, double-checked his work, and then nodded to Cordova. "It's all yours."

---

Now that they had acquired access to the control systems of Knowhere, there was a brief and heated debate over whether or not to bring it into Republic Space, with Cordova the greatest proponent of turning it into a far more reputable museum than the Collector had made of it.

Then, once they finally agreed that this was probably the best idea, they had to confront the logistics of achieving that goal.

The super-light engines were fried. They had taken Knowhere into the void between galaxies... and once they broke, they had left it with enough inertia to make it the rest of the way at those speeds, before finally falling back to sub-light only a century ago. Less than a parsec away from where they found it.

Bucky was unnerved by the numbers, to be honest. Especially when you have something like hyperspace or jump-drive, people tend to forget just how big  space is, and how long it takes to traverse it without those advanced technologies.

The jump-drive didn't work, as it required a pre-existing network, and no such network had been established in this galaxy... yet. A team of engineers had been requested, to examine the jump-drive technology, on the next supply ship. On the other hand, Cosmo said that no one (that she had known) knew how the jump-network had been set up in the first place, only how to use it, so there was no telling if anyone from this galaxy would figure it out or not.

Setting something this big up with hyperdrive was just a downright ludicrous proposal. So they eventually agreed to set it on a sub-light course (which, at that speed, would take literally thousands  of years to get to Coruscant), inform their supply ships of their new trajectory and speed, and start trying to repair the super-light engines.

If they did fix the super-light engines, it would have an advantage over hyperspace, in that it would go significantly faster without the established 'lanes'... allowing them to just plot the closest to a straight line from here to Coruscant (that didn't hit anything on the way), instead of circling around. The most inefficient hyperdrive on the Corellian Run would still be faster than these super-light engines going the same way, though.

They had also downloaded the star charts that led back to the Milky Way. These were detailed enough that Bucky didn't need to point on the map at where he guessed Earth was; it was labelled very clearly as 'Terra, Sol', with a hand-scrawled note labelling it's general vicinity as 'the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm'. Cosmo couldn't identify the handwriting, which ruled out Quill and most of his band of vagabonds. Bucky could swear he'd heard that exact turn of phrase used in the same context before, but couldn't quite place it.

It wasn't within current technological means to make that journey within his lifetime, without more cryo. Even with hyperdrive or super-light engines, and the assumption that the space between galaxies was safely empty enough not to drop out every parsec for recalculation... but they would certainly be studying their options once they got back to civilisation.

"So... the human homeworld is in another galaxy?" Cordova said with a sigh, at the dinner table in the main cafeteria of the Metis, with Obi-Wan, Bucky, Cosmo, and Maul. "I can't honestly say I was expecting that."

"I mean, part of me felt when we started heading west on the map..." Bucky admitted, still puzzling over the source of that quote.

"I'm not surprised," Maul said curtly. When they all turned to look at him, he shrugged. "Mother often told the story of the trail between galaxies. It was one of my favourites. One of the few I still remember."

"Of course there are old stories," Obi-Wan said with a shake of his head. "The Jedi have them, too, but we thought that was all they were."

"There is always a kernel of truth to the best, most persistent stories," Cordova said with a slow nod. "Perhaps your people do have some insight into this that the Jedi who interpreted the same legends do not?" He turned to Maul. "Would you share what you know, my friend?"

Cordova still didn't actually know Maul's true identity - none of the archaeological team did, and he still wore a hood in public to reduce the risk of one of them recognising his face - which was why he chose to call him 'friend' instead.

Maul nodded slowly. "The story described the journey that the first Nightsisters travelled across many galaxies, following the path of another civilisation that came before them. Ruins on Dathomir, said to have been ancient when the Sisters first settled the world, matched those found at each step of the journey, and across several worlds of this galaxy. You would never be permitted to study those on Dathomir, but I can point you to these other worlds. I would be interested in joining you, if you wish to investigate these legends."

Cordova nodded eagerly, "Yes, that sounds fascinating."

"Meanwhile, we have the far more disturbing question of just how  humanity made its way to this galaxy," Obi-Wan pointed out. "Knowhere's logs say it only took approximately five thousand years to travel here, and the Collector only acquired Mr Barnes six years prior to that... yet Earth was barely beginning to build their own first interstellar ships when Barnes was abducted. Humans have lived in this galaxy for over twenty-five thousand years that we have record of; popular theory puts that number closer to three hundred thousand years, but it is a possibility that Coruscant was built up before our species arrived. No matter how you cut it, those numbers don't add up."

There was a long, tense silence following that statement. Bucky hadn't put the details together until now, he hadn't realised how relatively short the journey between galaxies had been, he'd thought it made perfect sense that he'd just been frozen the whole time humans had been spreading out through this galaxy, but now that he really thought about it...

"Time travel isn't possible," Cordova said quietly, shaking his head. "But nothing else makes sense."

Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and glanced at Cosmo. She looked just as uncertain as he felt. "There were anomalies in the travel logs," Bucky said quietly. "And Pym always posited that the space between galaxies functioned on similar principles to the space between atoms."

Finally, she spoke up. "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."

---

Chapter Text

---

Bucky had taken his arm off for repairs; the first time he'd done it where anyone else could see, and that someone else was Obi-Wan, whom Bucky was watching out of the corner of his eye, as the Jedi eyed up the arm with open curiosity.

"What do these symbols just inside the edge mean?" Obi-Wan asked, peering curiously at the location of said symbols, normally hidden by writ of technically being on the 'inside' when attached, down the back of the shoulder.

Bucky half-smirked half-scowled at them, as usual feeling a burst of amusement and annoyance in equal measure at the memory of first discovering them. He assumed it was Shuri's doing, as she had made the thing.

"In order-" he pointed to the symbol on the far left; a square containing two numbers, one above the other, with a horizontal line between them. "Minimum and maximum safe temperature tolerances, in the numerals of my native language." Then the symbol next to it; a series of horizontal, parallel, wavy lines, inside a circle with a diagonal line drawn through it. "Potentially hazardous when exposed to large amounts of microwave radiation." Next, a stylised line art of a glass with an equally stylised drop of water beside it. "Safe to put through a dishwashing machine." And the final symbol; a similarly stylised line art of a snowflake. "And safe to store at sub-zero temperatures. It's a common set of safety symbols used in my time, usually in regard to cooking utensils. I'm pretty sure the engineer who made the arm put them there as a joke... although, the dishwasher one turned out to be an invaluable time-saver, really."

Obi-Wan tilted his head thoughtfully, a faint smile flickering across his lips to show he saw the humour. Then glanced up at Bucky more seriously. "I sense a darker note to your feelings, as well...?"

Bucky shrugged. It was true. "Oh, it's funny, don't get me wrong, but the fact I myself was commonly stored in a freezer... kinda puts a dampener on it." Even though he was sure that was at least a quarter of the intended joke. "That, and the woman who made the arm was a good friend." He missed her. He missed all of them, really.

---

Being the guardian of the Soul Stone was a big responsibility, but Cosmo wasn't too bothered by that part of it. She had been given big responsibilities before, and she knew how to handle the pressure.

The really bizarre thing was how the Soul Stone gave her a share of its abilities, and what those felt like.

She could read souls, now.

Everyone around her echoed with this strange other-sense that wasn't 'the Force' as she had come to understand it, but felt a bit like it. It didn't use her eyes, but it did feel a bit like seeing auras had been described, just... yeah, not with eyes.

Obi-Wan and Cordova almost glowed with feelings of hope and appreciation for existence around them. It was quite beautiful to 'look' at.

Maul seemed to have a kind of shadow draped around him, but it didn't feel cruel as she had kind of expected from descriptions of the Dark Side. The солдат felt very similar, but still different in a lot of other ways. They had both been hurt, but not broken. Someone had tried very hard  to break them, and failed.

What was most unusual was the way Maul and Obi-Wan's souls seemed to resonate off of each other. It gave her a distinct feeling of a history there, and she was beginning to think this was what it looked like if two souls had been deeply connected in a past life (or lives?)

The resonance got stronger when they behaved in certain ways; the oddly amicable imitation of hostility they had built over the last three years, in particular. The sneer when Maul called Obi-Wan 'Jedi', feeling to Cosmo's new soul-sense almost as a term of affection, instead of the insult it was intoned to be. The subtle sarcasm when Obi-Wan implied violence was the only option Maul saw.

It felt like scarring over an old wound... like something that had once been raw was healing, but it was still very much there.

She tried to ask the Stone, to help her understand, but its answer wasn't very helpful...

'It is said that the purpose of reincarnation is to become a better being with each turn of the wheel. If that is so, then one may infer that those two are doing it right.'

---

Obi-Wan was trudging back towards the Metis, still in its place on the docking bay of Knowhere. He was really looking forward to a nice long night's sleep, after a long day helping out in the engine rooms of what they had now decided to classify as a 'mobile space station'... but instead he was accosted by someone aggressively hugging him from behind. Only one moron behaved like this, and he Force-shoved Quinlan Vos off him, turning to face his friend, with a dubious and half-hearted glare. "What are you doing here, Quin?"

"I was bored."

"Oh, Force, no," Obi-Wan muttered, knowing how that went.

"So do you know about the Sith?" Quinlan asked. Obi-Wan glanced over Quinlan's shoulder... where Maul was lurking in the shadows. Quinlan blinked. "What?" he looked over his shoulder, and jumped with an effeminate yelp. "Okay, I guess you know!" he all-but squeaked.

Obi-Wan held his sabacc face diligently, refusing to let the grin he felt show - even if he knew full well Maul could see it in his eyes - as he stepped over to place a hand on Quinlan's shoulder. Quinlan flinched slightly, still jumpy, and gave him a dubious glance before focusing back on Maul.

"He's on our side now," Obi-Wan explained casually. There was little-to-no point in trying to hide anything from Quinlan. Psychometry was kind of cheating, really. Still, at least Quinlan knew how and when to keep his mouth shut... better than some Jed Masters, so far as Obi-Wan could tell.

"Mostly," Maul corrected, a cold smirk crossing his face as he moved out of the shadows and into range of holding a reasonable conversation without shouting. Obi-Wan repressed a shiver as that word reminded him of one of Barnes' stories. A horror story, in particular, that Barnes had felt inspired to tell by the state of this very space station when they had first arrived; 'They mostly come at night. Mostly.'

Quinlan scowled at Maul, then held out a hand as if to shake.

"Quin, no-" Obi-Wan moved to try to stop him, but he wasn't fast enough.

He saw the way Quinlan reacted to whatever vision skin-to-skin contact with Darth Maul caused him, and he found himself almost petrified as he stood, waiting to see the outcome.

Quinlan took a shaky step back, "Wow, that... wow."

"How dare you!" Maul snarled.

Quinlan quickly held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "I'm an idiot, I admit it!" he said quickly.

Maul just barely stopped short from whatever violence he had in mind, baring his teeth in rage, but then slowly stepped back. "This is supposed to be one of your friends?" he asked Obi-Wan dubiously.

"He is  an idiot, but he's our idiot," Obi-Wan admitted. "And by 'our' I mean my group of age-mates back at the Temple." Obi-Wan shook his head and stepped closer to Quinlan. "I always said psychometry was cheating. And on a person, it's even worse. You know that, Quin."

"Yeah, but he's a Sith. Present tense. You  know that, right?" Quinlan gave Obi-Wan a dubious look, and Obi-Wan shrugged. Yes, he knew. Maul had renounced Sidious, but not the Sith path. It was an odd dichotomy, especially as an ally to Jedi such as himself, but it was only a secret in so much as word could not be allowed to get back to Sidious that Maul still lived, not for those facts in and of themselves.

Quinlan ran his hand through his hair, clearly shaken. "Look, Obi, I didn't know what I was going to see; I expected the metaphor of a knife waiting to go in your back, and I'm happy to report I didn't see anything of the sort. Okay?"

"Really not okay, no," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head again. "Respect people's privacy, Quin. Seriously. And an apology wouldn't go amiss, either."

Quinlan glanced at Maul, eyes wide, then very slowly he nodded, "Yes, you're right. I'm sorry. My expectations of threat and treachery weren't sufficient reason to have done that to you. Especially in hindsight."

"You  will need to watch your back, and I assure you the knife will be quite literal," Maul growled, but Obi-Wan could sense that the threat was half-hearted. Not completely idle, but not very serious, either. He accepted the apology, not outright but enough.

"My lips are sealed," Quinlan told Maul quickly. "If I could choose to forget, I would. I'm sorry." This time, the apology seemed more sincere, rather than the forced one he had issued at first.

Maul seemed placated for the time being. Obi-Wan pointedly forced himself not  to wonder what Quinlan had seen, as he put an arm around his friend's shoulders and started guiding him towards the ship. "So what really brought you all the way out here, Quin?"

"I told you, I got bored," he admitted. "There's been changes back at the Temple; good changes, don't get me wrong, but I was wondering what provoked them, because you know how stodgy the Council are. I might have read one of Qui-Gon's datapads, and when I say 'read', I mean-" he waggled his fingers to suggest his psychometric skill, rather than the mundane definition of the word.

"And that led you here?"

"Well, I got the feeling you were in on it, and why did you ever leave me out?"

"It was top secret!" Obi-Wan protested.

"I know. Damn, I wish I didn't know," Quinlan shook his head slightly.

"That was your own foolish mistake, Jedi," Maul growled, revealing that he had been silently following the pair.

Quinlan cast the briefest nervous glance Maul's way, before continuing. "Look, Obi, I was hoping you'd want to come back to the Temple, even for a short break or something? This new information I just didn't want to get puts the whole deal in a new light, and I'm a bit worried about who this Sith Lord is, or how we're supposed to figure out how to stop him."

"Isn't that a matter for the Council?" Obi-Wan asked dubiously.

"I mean, yeah, but I'd bet they'd take suggestions," Quin shrugged. "If we came up with any."

Obi-Wan shook his head laughing lightly. "I guess I could use a break. Sure, I'll head back on this supply run with you."

---

Maul had already decided to stick with Cordova.

He actually liked James 'Bucky' Barnes - a feeling he had never expected to experience - they seemed to understand each other in a way no one else here did, and the man had helped him greatly in learning how to exist without the chokehold of a Master guiding his every move. But now, he needed to forge his own path, and he was also curious about this ancient history. It was the safe  option. The option Sidious would never suspect.

Oh, he very much wanted Sidious to suffer, fail, and die... but he didn't want to endanger himself to cause it, not directly.

Perhaps he could learn more from these ancient ruins. Already, powerful artefacts had been found, what was to stop them finding more on new expeditions.

Kashyyk, Bogano, Zeffo. What secrets did they hold?

Perhaps, after that, he might even return home (without the Jedi, obviously).

Males on Dathomir were not afforded any form of prestige, save where their brute strength made them appealing as mates... but his people valued knowledge, especially ancient knowledge, and especially  that related to their own past. He had been Mother's favourite son. He was certain they would permit him to follow this path.

And if he could learn something from this to help defeat his old Master... all the better.

---

They had learned the big important things they could from Knowhere, and with the group kind of breaking up - Obi-Wan going back to the Temple, and Maul expressing his interest to seek out new archaeological discoveries - Bucky and Cosmo sat down to try to figure out what their own next moves might be.

"I would like to stay with the Jedi," Cosmo told him simply. "They mean well, and I believe I could be a valuable ally to them. Also, a sanctuary of Light might be a good place to keep... you know." Her hind leg lightly scratched her collar to reference the gemstone embedded in it.

"I don't trust them," Bucky shook his head. "Well, most of them, anyway. I believe you'd be safe there, I even think it  might be safe there... I just wouldn't be comfortable living in their Temple again myself."

She nodded earnestly. "I expected this to be goodbye for now, but where will you go?"

"Well, I can't go back to Earth, which I'll admit I'd had a tiny sliver of hope for when we came here," he said with a soft sigh. "I could get good work as a mercenary or bounty hunter, but how would I get out there? Sign up on someone's crew, or something?" He actually had something a bit more complex in mind, but he felt Cosmo didn't need to worry about his scheming.

"With your pay from the expedition, you could probably afford that Star Trek ship you wanted," Cosmo added brightly.

He laughed lightly. "I... hadn't really thought about the fact they were paying us for this," he said, a faint smile beginning to form. "I mean, I knew it, I just... didn't realise; you're right. Three years' 'expert' salary, at the rate Cordova pitched to us, yeah, I think I could afford a decent ship."

"Piloting lessons?" she asked with a light yip that came close to laughter.

"Obi-Wan already gave me a few."

"Where will you start?"

"I guess I'll get off the supply frigate at Corellia, if I want to get a good ship of my own. I can find my way from there."

"If you ever need anything, you know where I'll be," she offered, a paw reaching out to lightly pat his knee. "Ста́рый друг - лу́чше но́вых двух."

Bucky smiled at her. "I'll hold you to that."

She wouldn't have been his first choice to be stuck in this new time with him before, but now... now he knew better. The old saying about a dog being man's best friend really did hold water.

---

Anakin stopped in his tracks as Obi-Wan passed him in the corridor between classes. It wasn't Obi-Wan that made him stop, though... it was the other Jedi he'd never seen before, who was walking alongside him, thick as thieves like they were up to no-good.

Well... like the other was up to no-good, and Obi-Wan was trying to tone it down a bit.

There was something about that other Jedi that called  to Anakin, resonated with absolute clarity of purpose... and it wasn't the superficial air of mischief at all (though that felt like a bonus).

"Excuse me!" he called trotting after the pair quickly. "Knight Kenobi! Master Jedi!"

The pair stopped, and both turned to look at him. Both smiled, Obi-Wan the familiar warmth of recognition, the other with a spark of light Anakin couldn't identify.

"Hey, kid," the unfamiliar of the two said brightly. "You're the one Qui-Gon found on Tatooine, three years ago, right? I'm sorry, I don't remember your name, but I'm Quinlan Vos, one of Obi-Wan's old clan-mates."

"I'm Anakin Skywalker, and I'd like to be your Padawan, please."

Anakin had really wanted to address Vos by his proper name and rank, as it's good manners and proper Jedi etiquette, but he wasn't sure if the older Jedi was a Knight or a Master, so he cut himself off before adding the formality to his request. It stood to reason if Vos and Obi-Wan were age-mates they should be close in rank, right? He'd guess Knight for now, but didn't dare voice the guess in case it was wrong.

The request seemed to startle the pair, both blinking in surprise.

"Well, you certainly are forthright, Anakin," Obi-Wan said with a smile, giving Vos an expectant look.

"I, uh... I hadn't thought about taking a second Padawan so soon," Vos admitted, but his hesitation seemed to be from surprise, his emotions close enough to the surface for Anakin to sense curiosity and interest over the confusion, and no trace of active rejection.

"You really do need something to occupy your mind with, Quin," Obi-Wan pointed out. "We've just seen what happens when you get bored."

"The Shadows would be so disappointed," Vos grinned thoughtfully. "Can't take kids on undercity skeev-hunts."

Anakin wrinkled his nose, "I'm from Tatooine. I know sleemo when I see it, I'd make a good Shadow!"

"Oh dear, I can see it now," Obi-Wan deadpanned, his tone implying that it was a disturbing image, but there was amusement radiating off him in spite of it.

"I'm not your typical stodgy Jedi, you know," Vos pointed out. "My teaching style has been called 'deranged' by two separate Jedi Masters."

"And yet Aayla turned out so well..." Obi-Wan murmured with a tone of wonderment.

"You don't have to sell it to me more," Anakin said cheerfully. "The Force has already spoken, when I first saw you."

Obi-Wan outright laughed, in spite of very clearly trying to stop himself. "Master Windu is going to have a stroke."

"I need time to think about it, Anakin," Vos said firmly, yet his emotions radiated approval; it was absolutely not a real 'no'. "I've been known to have really bad impulse control."

"I'm liking this more," Anakin wheedled.

"Oh, dear Force, I'm going to have nightmares," Obi-Wan said with a shake of his head. Yet, in spite of putting a hand up to his head as if it hurt, he didn't actually feel in the Force like he was hurt or worried.

"Give me a week," Vos told Anakin, resolve positively glowing from him. "There will be tests during that week."

Anakin nodded, grinning brightly. He already knew, beyond all doubt, that he had found his Sensei.

---

Replacements for such promising servants were hard to find, but Darth Sidious was nothing if not prepared and diligent in his planning. He already had backups in the wings, and now he realised that Dooku had rejected him, he turned to those other options in his stead. In the absence of an Apprentice, he had to run a few petty errands himself where he would have preferred to send a representative, but once he found a suitable replacement those matters would return to normal.

Another Force user, the feisty young witch more powerful than she knows, burned once by the Jedi and eager to serve any dark purpose that would place her at odds with them.

Another politician, naive and malleable enough to follow his words, already primed and ready to take on the role leading the budding idea of the Separatist Alliance to come.

Another intelligence operative, hands already drenched in blood, brilliant mind ready to strategise and drive said Separatists' war machine forward when the time came.

He had, of course, had other plans for all three... but without Dooku, they were to be promoted farther and sooner.

The plan would not be delayed.

---

Jedi Master Shaak Ti had arrived on Kamino two years ago, with a mandate to oversee the security of the cloning project, as well as the wellbeing of the clones themselves. Republic law didn't generally approve of cloning, but it wasn't officially outlawed, and where it did happen there were very strict protections in place for the newly created beings that most attempted cloners liked to try to overlook.

Now, after much hemming and hawing in the Senate, a representative of the Republic Health Administration was being sent to assist her with this vital mission.

She watched as the man disembarked the transport shuttle. Wearing the standard uniform of a Coruscanti surgeon (when they're not in theatre), he appeared near-human, approximately two metres tall, with black hair, lighter skin, and red-tinted eyes... and he had a charming, charismatic smile which he flashed her way as he approached.

A younger, apparently fully-human assistant trailed behind him, attention more on his datapad than his surroundings.

She glanced quickly at her own datapad, to skim over this expert's file (and hide her reaction as she purged her emotions of their primal, unreasonable reaction to that smile; such lust had no place in the professional relationship she would need to foster with this man, and yet her primal Togruta instincts really  admired his teeth). A highly acclaimed genetics specialist, named Dr N. E. Stellaris. The assistant wasn't named in the briefing.

"Doctor Stellaris," she said warmly.

"And you must be Jedi Master Shaak Ti," he replied with a smooth Coruscanti accent. "It is a great privilege to be here, my lady." He offered her a curt half-bow that showed respect rather than submission. "May I introduce my assistant, Doctor Hemlock."

The younger man looked up from his datapad exactly long enough to nod distractedly, just barely enough to account for basic manners, before returning to whatever held his focus so.

---